The Porre Affair by Soulblighter2
by Dixxy Mouri
Summary: *finished by Dixxy and Alba Aulbath* After an ominous sighting in Arni, the newly promoted Lieutenant Glenn is sent to investigate. What he finds is something much bigger then he could have ever possibly imagined. Violence and gore are present.
1. A Daring Abduction

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PROLOGUE

"A Daring Abduction"

The waxing moon shed a silvery glow upon the two people seated on the beach. The night was still and only the gentle lapping of the waves could be heard. One of the figures, a young man sporting a red bandana, slipped an arm around his companion's waist and pulled her close. The girl with long red hair looked at him and smiled. She placed her head on his shoulder and lightly caressed his chest. He glanced up at the stars and sighed softly.

"It's beautiful, isn't it Leena?" he asked the girl next to him as he drew her nearer, his other arm encircling her in a hug.

Leena tilted her head up and grinned. "Positively spectacular." She took a deep breath and exhaled softly. "Serge?"

"Yeah, Leena?"

"It's been awhile since we've done this, hasn't it?"

The young man took his eyes off the heavens and rested them upon her. Her soft smile and the warmth of her embrace stirred within him in a longing he had not experienced before. They had been friends all their lives, but never before had he thought of his childhood companion as anything other than a confidant. He smirked playfully and replied, "Not for two months, anyway."

She chuckled. "But at least we know that we're not missing much." A comfortable silence briefly settled upon the two as neither wished to break the quietude. The cool breeze picked up and she nestled closer, her cheek resting against his collarbone. She was at comfort in his presence and the strong arms that surrounded her gave her a measure of security.

A mischievous smile formed on Serge's lips. "Leena?"

"Hmmm?"

Stifling his mirth, he enquired, "Do you find this frightfully boring too?"

The girl stared at him for a split second and burst into a fit of giggles. "I think I've aged ten years already!"

Serge joined in the hilarity and soon the echo of laughter resounded in the night air. Once they had quieted down, he took her by the hand and gazed into her eyes. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you," he began in earnest.

"Yes?" She could feel her heart racing. "What would you like to ask me?"

"You see, we've known each other for a long time now and…"

Leena suddenly felt light headed and giddy as her friend struggled with his words. He stuttered and gesticulated in a confused manner, attempting to make a point with words that he could not muster. "He wants to ask me to be his girlfriend!" she thought. "But the poor boy can't find the right way to say it." She gave him a sympathetic smile and gently brushed his cheek.

"Leena?"

"Serge?" She blinked several times as if awakened from a dream, her hand still on his face.

"Did you get that?" he asked in anticipation.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry. My mind was wandering." She laughed nervously and quickly withdrew her outstretched arm. "Can you please repeat the question?"

"I was wondering if you'd be at all interested in…"

He was cut off mid-sentence by a blinding flash of light. She covered her face as fell on her side while Serge tumbled backwards, his arms shielding his eyes from the brilliant glow. Voices were heard following the brightness and Leena felt a pair of hands grip her right arm and another pair grab hold of her left. A sharp pull brought her roughly onto her feet. She opened her eyes and saw two men dressed in blue military uniforms holding Serge in the same manner.

"Let her go!" Serge cried, his voice quivering, but evidently filled with rage. He began to thrash about while his two captors fought to restrain him.

A fifth man, a military officer of unknown rank, walked up to Serge and struck him in the face with a vicious back hand. His head snapped to the left and he went limp in the hands of his kidnappers. Leena screamed and struggled to free herself from her arrested position, but the soldiers only strengthened their grip on her until she yelped in pain.

"Sorry, girlie," the officer said as he strode up to her, "but this business doesn't concern you." He dug his hands into a leather drawstring bag that hung at his waist and pulled out a fistful of powdery substance. He grinned maliciously at the contents of his hand and laughed. "This should keep you nice and quiet."

Leena bellowed Serge's name before the officer flung the peculiar matter in her face. She felt the fine particles enter her nostrils and sneezed twice before she sank to her knees, unconscious. The soldiers that still held her arms released their grip and she collapsed onto the sand. They looked down at her comatose form and snickered.

"What shall we do with her, sir?" One of the men asked.

"Let her be," the officer replied, "She'll wake up in due time."

The five men walked down the beach toward the shoreline dragging Serge with him. The officer produced a small pendant from his tunic pocket and the ground beneath him began to shimmer. He looked at his men, nodded, and within seconds the small troop of soldiers vanished in a bright green glow.


	2. The Witness, the Spy, and the Prisoner

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CHAPTER I

"The Witness, the Spy, and the Prisoner"

Leena knelt in front of the grave at Cape Howl and placed a small bouquet of flowers at the base of the headstone. She kissed her fingers and gently touched the cold granite. "Happy eighteenth, Serge," she said softly. The light wind blowing in from Zenan picked up and she shuddered. She brushed a few stray hairs from her eyes and began her walk back to Arni.

The village was abuzz with activity and people were scrambling in the direction of the Commons. A small crowd had gathered in front of the chief's house and the chief himself had stepped up onto a makeshift podium in preparation for an announcement. As Leena ventured closer she picked up stray bits of conversation mingled among the panicked ramblings of a severely agitated swarm.

"An invasion, you say?" someone wailed, "You can't be serious?"

"…occupied again!" exclaimed another villager, "My son-in-law just arrived from Termina with…"

She made her way to the front of the podium and stood reticent as the chief struggled to quiet the assembly. Eventually the cacophony died down and the village leader cleared his throat and began:

"I'm sure all of you already have some inkling of what's going on." He paused briefly and cleared his throat again. "This morning two of our fishing boats returned to Arni with news that a small squadron of Porre warships has anchored off the coast of Guldove." A mighty groan rose from the gathering, but the chief ignored it and continued, "Kiripa, one of the fishermen, also saw troops landing on the island."

"We're next, I tell you!" a voice shuddered from the mass of villagers.

"Why are we still talking about this? We must tell Lord Viper!" another stammered.

The chief raised his hands in a bid for silence. "A messenger has already been dispatched north. We can do little but wait. But bear in mind that the last time Porre came to the islands they did no harm to the archipelago's inhabitants. We can hope that this will be the case once again." 

There was a brief escalation of murmurs but gradually the people began to disperse. Leena bit her lower lip and frowned. "Guldove?" she mumbled, "Of all places…how remarkably odd." 

The evening was calm as Leena sat on the soft sand. The moon was out and its ghostly countenance reflected off the mirror-like surface of the El Nido Sea. She looked out into the watery vastness in silence and sighed softly. "What's to become of us?" she pondered, "What will happen if Porre overruns El Nido? Will we suffer the same fate of the mainlanders?" She shook her head and stood up. Leena made a face and cursed to herself when she felt coarse grains of sand in her shoes. She spied a small boulder hidden within a cage of coral and hobbled toward it. She settled on the rock and just as she was about to remove her footwear a vivid explosion of radiance erupted from on the beach. She toppled backward onto the sand and struck her elbow on a piece of coral. A jet of pain shot up her arm and she winced as blood began to pour. The glow slowly subsided and she people speaking.

"Captain Fipps, sir! I believe we're back, sir!"

"Brilliant observation, Wendell," someone presumably named Fipps growled. "Leave the boy here for now. Gipper! You stand guard and make sure he doesn't wake up and wander away! If he does, Gods help you I'll…"

"Yes, sir, Captain Fipps, sir!" the one named Gipper replied. "I'll do just that, sir! Not let him wake up and wander away, sir!"

"Wendell, Windell, and Fred, you three follow me!" the man named Fipps ordered.

"Sir, yes sir!" the three soldiers acknowledged.

Leena slowly peered over the boulder after a short amount of time had elapsed. The light from the full moon was luminescent enough to allow her to see a good fifty yards from her position. She saw a tall man in military uniform standing over a limp body. The soldier was armed and she could hear him mumbling to himself. She could see the figure lying on the sand well enough to make out his mode of dress. 

"A red kerchief on his head," she observed, "what looks like a vest of some sort, blue shorts, and…" She squinted at the motionless form. "Purple socks? Red? Pink?" She paused. "Why does that seem so familiar?" 

Voices could again be heard coming from afar. 

"They're back!" Leena gasped and quickly ducked behind the boulder.

"Okay, Gipper," one of the men soldiers yelled, "he's still here, right?"

"Yes, sir, Captain Fipps, sir! The boy is still here!"

"Windell! Help Gipper with the fellow!" 

The soldier named Windell loudly acknowledged the order in some slurred dialect.

Leena summoned up her courage and quietly took another peek. The boy on the beach was now being unceremoniously dragged away by two soldiers. The officer named Fipps was wildly gesticulating and muttering orders to the remaining men. 

"Porre!" she fumed, "It has got to be Porre! That poor boy must have been kidnapped!" She shifted her injured elbow slightly. "Stupid wound!" She returned her gaze to the activity on the beach and bit her lip. 

"They'll swim to Porre if I want them to do so, let alone walk to Termina!" the officer seethed, "And the both of you had better smarten up!" 

The two men being berated snapped a crisp salute and clicked their heels. The officer named Fipps grumbled and stormed off, followed closely by the soldiers.

After a moment, Leena heaved a sigh of relief and leaned on the boulder. She remained seated for ten minutes before rising to her feet. Clutching her injured elbow, she slowly tiptoed to the path and cautiously listened for the soldiers. Having satisfied herself that they were no longer there, she ran back to the village.

****

* * * *

General Viper listened intently as the young man from Arni continued to issue forth a stream of nearly incoherent babble. The youth seemed extremely agitated and the riotous flailing of his arms added to his state of confusion. He had arrived at the manor half an hour ago, thoroughly exhausted and on the verge of collapse from fatigue. After having been plied with food and drink, the adolescent revealed that he had grave news to report to the general.

"Slow down," Viper instructed, "I can barely understand you. Take a deep breath and start again."

The messenger paused to collect his breath and his faculties. He wiped his brow and said, "My Lord Viper, two fishermen from my village spotted a group of ships from Porre yesterday morning."

"Where were they?" the General entreated.

"Anchored outside Guldove, Milord. One of the fishermen also mentioned that soldiers were being dispatched to the island."

Viper furrowed his brow in thought. After a moment of silence he called to one of his dragoon guards. "Arrange safe transport for this young man back to Arni." He looked at the boy and said, "I thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. Godspeed and may your journey home be safe." The youth bowed and was escorted out. The General turned to another guardsman. "Inform the Lieutenant that I would like to meet with him in my study at once." The dragoon saluted in acknowledgement and left the room.

Glenn shuffled through the stack of papers with disgust. He glanced at the neat pile of forms that occupied the corner of his desk and groaned. "Requisitions, new recruits, requisitions, new recruits, and more requisitions!" he muttered. "It never ends. I'm drowning in paper." He opened a top drawer and shoved the sheets inside. Without thinking twice, he shut the drawer, leaned back in his chair and looked up.

"The ceiling looks rather captivating to-day," Glenn mumbled. He absentmindedly fingered the lieutenant's insignia on his collar. The promotion was an unexpected one. He had written the officer's examination and, in his infinite capacity for pessimism, managed to convince himself that he had failed the thing miserably. Dario and Karsh, on the other hand, knew better and when they informed the then-Private that he was in line for a promotion, the young knight fainted dead away. As a result of the impromptu collapse, he became the object of the four Deva's merciless barbs for an entire month. He had taken it all astride and even laughed at the matter, nevertheless, he had silently reproached himself for having done such a thing, even if it had been involuntary.

"Sir?" 

A voice shattered Glenn's reminiscence, causing him to take his eyes off the whitewashed planks of the office ceiling.

"Yes?"

A dragoon private stood in front of his desk, his right hand at his temple in a salute. "I'm sorry, Sir. But I tried knocking and there was no response."

"No, that's quite alright," Glenn replied, "What can I do for you, Private?"

"Lord Viper wishes to meet with you in his study, Sir."

"At this moment?"

"Yes, Sir. At this moment."

Glenn nodded in affirmation and rose from his desk. He fastened his cuirass and tucked his officer's plumed helm under his arm. The Private waited patiently while the Lieutenant sheathed the twin Einlanzer swords in his scabbards. Glenn winked at the guard. "By the time I'm in full dress armor I'll scarcely be able to move a muscle!" he quipped. The Private suppressed a smile and opened the door.

A faint knock sounded at the entrance to the General's library. Viper glanced up from the text he was reading and gruffly called out, "Enter." The wooden portal swung open to reveal a helmeted guardsman. The old man smiled and motioned for him to draw nearer. "Come in, Lieutenant," he beckoned, "come in."

Glenn stepped across the threshold and saluted the general. "You wish to see me, sir?"

"Yes, Lieutenant, indeed I do," the General answered. He motioned to a chair, "At ease and please take a seat. We have much to discuss."

Glenn removed his helmet and sat down before the general.

"Glenn," Viper began, "It has come to my attention that your new position doesn't seem to offer a whole lot in terms of outdoor activities."

"No, sir," he replied.

"And I'd imagine that at times it can be mind-numbingly boring too, yes?"

"Yes, sir." Glenn grimaced. "I mean, no sir! I mean, I am extremely grateful for your lordship's kindness in promoting me, sir!"

Viper grinned. "Take heart, my boy for I, too, was once a Lieutenant. And to be frank, I know what you're going through. More often than not, as an officer, the majority of your battles are waged with pen, paper, and quartermaster generals," the old man chortled gaily as he shut his book. "However, I have an assignment for you that will involve some traveling. Tell me, are you well acquainted with the fishing village of Arni and its immediate environs?"

"Not very well, sir," Glenn said, "But I vaguely recall having been there before." He halted briefly to gather his thoughts. "I just can't for the life of me remember when I was in the area."

"That's quite alright. The locals are very friendly and I'm sure they'll be more than happy to aid you. In any case, knowing why you'll be going there will probably be most useful. We have a bit of a situation brewing. This morning a messenger from Arni arrived at the manor with some rather unsettling news. It seems that warships from the Republic of Porre have anchored off the coast of Guldove and even as we speak, enemy troops are occupying the village and its surrounding terrain."

"Porre, sir?" Glenn said with ounce of surprise.

Viper nodded. "The Republic's ambassador and military attaché are to meet with me later this evening. I am sure there is a logical explanation for this unwarranted aggression, but just to be safe, four regiments of the dragoons are on alert and the Devas have been told to prepare for the worst."

"I shall do my duty to aid in the overthrow of Porre's militaristic plans, sir!" the young officer declared.

"I am confident that you will," General Viper said. "Your assignment, however, will not involve full scale battle; at least, not if you can avoid it. That is not to say that what you'll be doing is any less dangerous. If Porre's intention is to conquer the archipelago they will no doubt have agents sprinkled throughout the islands. A slip could mean disaster for many of our brave citizens and soldiers in the event of hostilities. You can also be sure that the first strike against us will most likely come in the form of an attack on our chain of command. If my knowledge of history serves me correctly, Porre gained an upper hand against the Kingdom of Guardia by assassinating top military personnel before the full scale invasion. You must therefore keep your eyes and ears open, Glenn."

"Yes, sir!"

"Excellent. You'll set off for Arni incognito as a traveling merchant early tomorrow morning. We cannot afford to draw attention to our actions. Not when there is so much ambiguity. If those fishermen spotted the ships, it stands to reason that those ships might have seen the fishermen. In the event that Porre's spies catch wind of an Acacian officer snooping around, things could get difficult. In any case, once you're there you must make contact with the two fishermen. They might have missed some details of vital importance. Luccia will provide you with some sketches she made of Porre ships the last time they were here. Knowing what kind of vessels and how many there are may give us a clearer indication of their motives."

"Understood, sir."

"Good luck. If you uncover anything new dispatch a runner back to the manor immediately. And if at all possible, request that the messenger be the lad that delivered the news this morning. He's the only one we can trust at this time."

Glenn rose from the chair and smartly saluted Viper. "Yes, sir!" He then turned on his heels and marched out of the study, closing the heavy wooden door behind him as he left.

****

* * * *

The gentle rocking was far from comforting. Though he had been on numerous expeditions with some of the village fishermen, Serge had never before traveled on a ship in a half-conscious state. The dull throb that seized his temples, coupled with the swaying of the vessel thoroughly nauseated him. Through the dim haze that clouded his eyes, he could see that he was being kept in a cell of some sort. Across from the entrance to the barred compartment he could barely make out the silhouette of a man. Serge groaned as he tried to get onto his feet but his knees buckled and he collapsed.

"Poor fisherboy have a headache?" the figure in front of him said in a mocking tone.

Serge could see the form bend to pick up something and ostensibly walk toward him, though his vision was not clear enough for him tell. He heard a brief click and the iron door swung open, its rusty hinges crying out in remonstration. The mystery man seized Serge's right hand and roughly pushed a goblet into his open palm.

"Drink this," he said, "It'll make you feel better and lessen the likelihood that I'll have to clean up your vomit on my shift."

Serge placed the cup to his lips and slowly swallowed the liquid. As each drop slid down his throat he could feel his head getting lighter. When the contents of the goblet had been drained, he felt utterly spent. He slurred some words at the guard that kept watch over him and soon fell into a deep slumber.

The man across from the cell watched as the boy slowly lost consciousness. He snorted and pocketed the phial of sleeping draught. "Can't give me work if you're not awake," he growled.

****

* * * *

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A Quick Note From Dixxy:

Hello everyone- I certainly hope that you're enjoying Soulblighter-2's unfinished masterpiece, The Porre Affair_. _

I would like to take a moment to announce that Alba Aulbath will be working with me on completing the project. We're still working out the details on how the collaboration will work, but just know that she, too, is going to be working on completing this wonderful project.

~Dixxy 


	3. It Begins

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CHAPTER II

"It Begins"

The ox-cart jolted violently as it struck a wayward rock and Glenn roused with a start. The farmer turned back to check on his passenger and threw him a sheepish grin when he saw that the young merchant was wide awake.

"Sorry, 'bout that," the man apologized, "But you know 'ow Fossil Valley is, Guv'ner."

Glenn nodded weakly. "Yes, that's quite alright." He tucked his hands into his coat pocket and leaned against the wooden rail. "I must thank you again for being so accommodating. I consider myself very lucky to have found you."

"Nary a problem, lad. T'was very propitious of you to 'ave approached me when you did. Mostly everyone is stayin' put because of the trouble in Guldove." The man glanced behind him again. "Did you 'ear 'bout it?"

Glenn shook his head in feigned ignorance. "No, I don't believe so. Tell me, what is happening?"

"Ships and men 'ave surrounded the island, lad. All communications 'ave been cut off." The driver cracked his whip lightly and the horses pulling the cart neighed in protest. "And not just regular vessels, my boy! They're great metal giants that use sail and breathe smoke too! 'Dragon Ships' is wot everyone is callin' 'em." 

"Ironclads," Glenn murmured.

"Wot's that, Guv'ner?"

"Nothing. I was just summarizing some orders I have to place at Arni. How did you come to know of this?"

The farmer shrugged his shoulders and replied, "Rumors and stories driftin' 'bout Termina, mostly. By the way, lad, the village you're goin' to, Arni, word 'as been circulatin' that two chaps there saw the ships with their own eyes! Isn't that somethin'?"

"Yes, rather it is."

"You're a smart one, Guv'ner. Stockin' up on supplies and such. This much I can tell you, if war breaks out, you will make a killin', no pun intended."

"No one should be profiting from death and misery!" Glenn snapped.

The comment hushed the farmer and they rode in silence for a few minutes. "You be a good 'un, lad," he said following the brief interlude. "And I apologize for 'avin' made such a callous remark."

"It's nothing to fret over. How much longer have we to go?"

"We'll be approachin' the outskirts of the village before sundown. I 'ope you 'ave a place to stay for the night. Arni isn't 'xactly famous for its inns, you know," the old driver tittered.

"I shall make do," Glenn replied, "Thank you kindly."

The setting sun had nearly vanished from the horizon when the cart rumbled into the outskirts of Arni. The driver stopped by the side of the dirt road to let his passenger out and offered his traveling companion wishes for a safe journey. The old farmer then smiled at him and went on his way. Glenn briefly surveyed his surroundings and found that it was all strangely recognizable. The road to the village was flanked on either side by palm trees that swayed lazily in the evening breeze and the lights from Arni beckoned to him. He took in a gulp of air and even that seemed familiar. Far off he could hear the currents dash against the shore and the smell of the sea filled his nostrils. Unable the shake the peculiar feeling that washed over him, Glenn ran his fingers through his golden locks and began to walk in the direction of the village's flower bedecked portico.

The narrow streets were all but abandoned, but the warm glow of life effused from the numerous huts that lined the dusty avenue. The sounds of laughter and the clink of utensils upon china reached Glenn's ears from the _Café de Fleur_ a bit further down the path. The dull reddish-orange glow of the setting sun provided a modest amount of light to allow the host of multicolored banners that hung from the rooftops of the residential huts to remain visible. 

By all appearances the village had done very well in the years before and in all probability continued to thrive. The fish caught by Arni fishermen had always sold well in Termina and there was even a market for El Nido seafood on the mainland. Though cities and small towns like Truce and Medina possessed their own fishing industries it was El Nido that provided the most varied selection of underwater culinary delights.

The first incursion by Porre forces had left Arni untouched. Termina up north was briefly occupied, but the hostile troops left soon thereafter as mysteriously as they had arrived. The pristine fishing village had been left to its own devices and despite the strict regulations placed on travel between the northern and southern halves of the island, Arni continued its distinct way of life and even flourished in the face of occupation. The fishermen had provided Porre troops with fresh seafood when military rations expired and, except on a few isolated occasions, the orders were diligently paid for in full. The profiting by Arni had elicited a few hostile reactions following Porre's withdrawal, from Termina in particular. A generous gift from the village to the larger port city up north for use in reconstruction and recovery, however, silenced all ill thoughts and words.

Glenn pulled his cloak closer as a chill wind embraced him. He trudged toward the café and cursed to himself for lacking the foresight to wear something thicker. Arni was, after all, situated on the coast and cool evenings were a foregone conclusion. As he ascended the wooden ramp of the _Café de Fleur_ he silently hoped that there would be a place to spend the night. Sleeping out in the open was not an option. He suddenly stopped in his tracks and briefly wondered if his new commission as an officer had made him soft. "I had no trouble sleeping under the stars as a Private," Glenn thought. However, when he did so in the past he was well prepared for it. A campfire was essential for warmth and he doubted that the villagers would appreciate a roaring flame so close to their rather combustible wooden and straw huts. He shrugged and walked through the café's entrance.

The atmosphere was lively and the patrons inside seemed too preoccupied with their own affairs to pay heed to the newcomer. The tantalizing smell of hot food coming from the stove enticed Glenn, as he had not eaten since his departure in the morning. He approached the café counter and peered over at the boiling pot of fish stew. He licked his lips in anticipation took a seat in front of the bubbling contents. He spied a waitress across the room and smiled at her. The girl threw him a playful glance and drew near to him.

"What can I get for you, handsome?" she smirked.

Glenn blushed and cleared his throat. "I'll have the stew, Miss."

"An excellent choice!" the girl exclaimed, "It's made with fresh Okapa fish, clams, and mussels. All of it freshly caught this morning." She paused to inscribe the order on her pad of paper. "Speaking of muscles…" The waitress mumbled under her breath and snickered as she snatched a glimpse of Glenn's well toned arms, the product of countless hours spent wielding a sword.

He caught the entendre and turned beet red while the waitress giggled as she skittered away into the kitchen. A grin appeared on the lips of the normally reserved soldier and he chuckled softly. One thing that the manor sadly lacked was adequate female companionship. In all his years as a dragoon he had never allowed himself the opportunity to openly fraternize with the fairer sex. Riddel was wed to his elder brother and aside from the few, older female staff that worked in the manor there were no girls to speak of.

The stew arrived shortly with a piece of crusty bread and a sly wink from the waitress as she served the dish. He could hear her stifled giggles as she quickly sped away after having dropped off his order. He dug into his supper with great relish and soon found that his hunger had been adequately satiated. He paid his bill and was told that the chief would provide him with a room for the night upon making an enquiry about lodging. Glenn again made eye contact with the waitress as he was about to leave and she threw him another flirtatious wink. He turned to smile back and very nearly toppled down the wooden ramp when he missed his footing. As he slowly strolled on the darkened path to the chief's house, he began to contemplate his next move.

****

* * * *

Leena yawned and stretched languidly. She sat up on her mattress and sleepily looked out the window. The first golden rays of the morning sun were just beginning to appear over the watery horizon and she could already hear the chattering of the fishermen as they prepared to venture out to sea. She heaved a sigh and rolled out of bed.

The village outside had already begun to rouse when Leena left her house. The streets were still relatively quiet, but within an hour the voices of children would fill the narrow pathways and peals of laughter would reverberate throughout Arni. She placed her hands on her hips and looked up at the sky. The violet tinged heavens of early morning were beginning to give way to the familiar clear blue of summer and the staccato cry of gulls could be heard coming from the shore. A smile crept across her face as she descended onto the dusty venue.

Leena gently rapped on the door to the chief's abode and waited for a response. The door creaked open to reveal an old man in a multicolored robe. He flashed a tired smiled at the young woman at his doorstep. "Good morning, Leena," he greeted her in a rich baritone, "And how are you doing this fine day?" He motioned for her to enter and he shut the door when she complied.

"Great so far, Chief!" the bubbly teen chirped. "I came over to ask you if…" She trailed off as she caught a brief glimpse of a man buttoning his shirt in the corner of the room. He almost looked her age; perhaps a bit older, but not by much. A small crisscrossed scar adorned his left cheek and his disheveled, sandy blond hair was kept in place by a long white ribbon. Leena bit her lower lip in deliberation. "Now where have I seen him before?" she mused.

"Leena?" The chief tapped her on the shoulder. "You were saying?"

"Fish," she mumbled without taking her eyes off the stranger, "I was going to ask you about the fish that…" She paused. "I'm sorry, chief, but who's your guest?"

Glenn continued to clothe himself, oblivious of the attention he was receiving.

"A young merchant from Termina," the chief answered. "He arrived late last night and couldn't find a place to stay. So he's our guest for the duration of his visit." The village leader's eyes twinkled merrily. "Would you like to be introduced?"

Leena looked at the chief alarmingly. "Introduced?" she sputtered, "I don't think I could…"

"Come now." The chief laughed lightly and gently clasped her wrist. "You might as well get to know him. He'll be doing a lot of business with the village and I'm sure he'd appreciate being shown around." The leader winked at her and laughed again. 

The two walked toward Glenn, who was pulling his boots on as they approached. Leena playfully resisted as the chief brought her closer to him. She deduced that he had traveled extensively, his skin tanned from exposure to the sun. She lightly cocked her head as her eyes scanned his well muscled arms. "Looks rather strong for a merchant," she thought.

"Marcus, allow me to introduce Leena," the chief said, using the cover name Glenn had provided him with the evening before. "She's one of the First Daughters of the village."

He glanced up at Leena and she gave an audible gasp when she looked into the pale blue eyes. She stood in mute silence as she struggled to identify him in her thoughts. He slowly rose to his feet and extended his right hand to her in greeting. She reciprocated in kind and he gently brought her hand to his lips in a kiss.

"A pleasure to meet you, Leena," Glenn said.

"Likewise, Marcus," she breathed, spellbound by him. 

"You mentioned yesterday that you need a guide to help you with your business in Arni, Marcus," the chief injected, "Leena's very knowledgeable and she knows the village very well."

"Yes, thank you. I'm sure she will be marvelous for the job," Glenn replied. He turned and looked at her. "But I hope that the lady will not mind doing so?"

"Not at all!" Leena professed, "I'll be more than happy to show you around…Marcus." She grinned at him and he returned the compliment in earnest.

Glenn and Leena left the village leader's home shortly thereafter and made their way outside to the Commons. The sun was already in the sky, bathing the village in warmth as the two took a seat underneath a palm tree. A light breeze shifted the green fronds above their heads as they leaned against the trunk. "So…Marcus," she began, "How long have you been a merchant?"

"Almost two years now," Glenn replied. He moved slightly and propped his legs up on a rock. He rested his hands behind his head and proceeded to elaborate on his past. 

Leena listened with interest, albeit with a hint of skepticism and a good dose of suspicion. The situation she had witnessed on Opassa Beach materialized in her mind. She glanced at the comely young man who sat beside her and attempted to imagine him in a Porre uniform. As he droned on about trade in fish, wine and rarities like Hydra claw, her uncertainties on the true identity of the fellow and his motives began to grow. Once he had finished his verbal autobiography, Leena smiled, rose to her feet and faced him. She reached into her dress pocket and pulled out a small ivory dagger.

"Enough stories, 'Marcus' if that's your real name!" she spat, "I can see through your whole charade. You didn't fool me for a single minute. Tell me who you are and what you want with us!"

Glenn quietly stood up and took a step forward. Leena backed away, the weapon in her hand pointed menacingly at the Lieutenant. He cautiously advanced and she fell back again.

"Don't come any closer! I'll kill you, I will!" she cried.

He stopped in his tracks and looked around. No one was about and there were no villagers approaching the chief's abode. The Commons was all but deserted and only the two of them stood in the empty gathering space. Glenn brought his attention back to the girl wielding the knife and heaved a sigh. "Please, Leena, I can explain," he offered.

"Don't skirt the question, Mar…whoever you are!" She continued to brandish the dagger, her green eyes filled with anger and fear. 

He opened his mouth as if to reply and promptly shut it. He took another step forward. Suddenly, she gave a little cry and rushed forward, the ivory weapon aimed at Glenn's chest. He quickly sidestepped the attack, seized her wrist and gave a slight twist. She yelped in pain and the knife fell to the ground with a soft thud. He whirled her around and seized her other wrist. They stood face-to-face as she struggled in his grip.

"I'll scream!" she threatened, "I'll do it and the whole village will come and drag you off to be hanged, you wretch! Cad! Traitor!"

"Leena! Calm down!" he implored. 

She continued to thrash about violently and her knee made contact with a sensitive portion of his anatomy. He doubled over in pain and released her. Leena dashed to the Commons entrance, neglecting the dagger she had dropped. Glenn raised his head long enough to see her trying make a getaway and quickly pulled off his right boot. He lobbed the heavy shoe in the direction of the fleeing girl and extraordinarily the heel made contact with the back of her head. She tumbled forward, struck her right temple on the hard earth and lay unconscious on the ground. Glenn momentarily glanced at the motionless figure in front of him and heaved a sigh.

"This is turning out to be one hell of a day," he groaned. 

****

* * * *

The spyglass swept across the horizon and settled upon the rocky island-village of Guldove. The cold grey eyes that scanned the towers narrowed considerably when it caught sight of small blue shapes on the wharf being driven back by a large multicolored mass. Several minute flashes were spotted followed by puffs of smoke. Lieutenant General Crumm of the Porre _10th Rifle Division _lowered his telescope and pursed his lips in dissatisfaction.

"Damned idiots can't even handle a bunch of villagers with pitchforks," he fumed. He snapped his fingers and a soldier stepped up beside him. "Get the 2nd Battalion to land onshore immediately. And bring in naval support. Bombard the whole place to hell if you have to. I want that village secured before nightfall." The subordinate clicked his heels in acknowledgement and marched off.

Another soldier approached the officer and saluted him. "Lieutenant General Crumm, sir! A Level 2 telegram from HQ has arrived, sir!"

"Well, out with it then man! What is it? This had better be good," Crumm snarled. He raised his spyglass again and aimed it at the village. He frowned with displeasure and swore under his breath.

"They've got the boy, sir! He's on the way back to the mainland, sir!"

"About damned time," he sneered. "And what else? Orders?"

"You are to proceed to occupy El Nido, sir! Further instructions from High Command are pending, sir!"

He dismissed the soldier and snapped the telescope shut. He pocketed the spyglass and folded his arms. From the direction of the island there came a loud explosion followed by a bright spurt of flame and a plume of curling black smoke. Another blast sounded and Crumm saw one of the towers crumble. He looked on dourly as another ironclad warship prepared to turn its guns on the residents of the unfortunate village.


	4. A Complex and Unexpected Turn

__

Chapter III

"A Complex and Unexpected Turn"

Leena groaned softly as she shifted her head. She felt a cold and damp material wrapped around her brow and instinctively reached up to grab it. She opened her eyes and found herself lying on a cot inside the chief's hut. The village leader, however, was nowhere to be found and somewhere off in the distance she could hear someone shuffling about. She closed her eyes again and exhaled loudly. She suddenly remembered the merchant 'Marcus' and the altercation and bolted up from the cot with a squeak. The wet cloth fell from her forehead and she hurriedly picked up her shoes from the ground. As she was about to reach for the doorknob, she felt a hand clamp over her mouth and an arm encircle her waist. Leena was spun around and she found herself looking at Glenn's face.

"Don't scream, Leena!" Glenn pleaded, "I mean you no harm." He had wisely position his body a few inches away from the girl's knees, lest he be on the receiving end of another well placed jab. She was complacent enough, but her eyes spoke of her fear. "I'll remove my hand if you promise not to scream bloody murder. And I'll explain everything."

Leena slowly nodded in agreement and Glenn slipped his hand away from her mouth. She scowled and brought her palm across the Lieutenant's face. He momentarily saw stars as the furious young woman rained blow after blow on him. 

"Beast!" she raged, "Cur! Rascal! Scoundrel!" 

He vainly attempted to block the flurry of slaps, but to no avail. She continued to advance as he stepped back until his foot caught on a rug and he fell to the floor. The parade of strikes ceased and Leena stood with her hands on her hips, glowering above her fallen prey. 

"You've got some nerve!" she fumed, "Lying and then throwing your stupid shoe at me! It really hurt! Who fights like that? I mean, honestly!"

Glenn rubbed his cheek and looked up at his attacker. "I'm sorry, madam," he replied meekly.

"Sorry nothing!" Leena retorted, "Traitorous lout! I knew something was fishy the minute I laid eyes on you! So what does Porre want from Arni? Fish? Or was that poor boy you drugged and dragged away the other night your point in being here?"

He rearranged his hair ribbon and cautiously stood up. "I'm not an agent of Porre, Leena. Quite the contrary, I'm…" Glenn hesitated. Revealing too much information could further jeopardize his mission. Nevertheless, he owed her after having inadvertently assaulted her. "I was sent from Viper Manor to investigate and look for the two fishermen who saw the Porre warships." He massaged his tender cheek and pulled an ivory dagger from his pocket. He carefully extended the object in his hand to the girl. "I believe this belongs to you."

Leena carefully took the weapon from the Lieutenant and eyed him apprehensively. She placed the dagger back on the chief's desk and returned to face her would-be captor. The young man looked earnest enough and though he could very well have ended her life while she lay unconscious, he did not and had even returned the ivory blade to her. She warily took a seat on the cot and folded her hands on her lap. 

"Perhaps you'd care to tell me what it is you plan to do and how you intend to go about doing it. Your real name might be nice to know, too."

"My name is Glenn and I'm a Lieutenant in the _4th Light Regiment_ of the Acacia Dragoons." A complete explanation of his mission ensued and with each word he felt Leena scrutinizing him for any trace of deception. Leena continued to observe him in silence long after he had completed the impromptu debriefing. After several minutes of awkward stillness she gingerly brushed imaginary specks of dust from her skirt and crossed her arms.

"Okay," she began, "that's good. We're getting somewhere. So what's your last name?"

"You may call me Glenn," he replied, "And you? What is yours?"

"You may call me Leena," she advised.

"Fair enough, Leena." He pulled up a chair against the cot and sat down. "Now that you know the real reason why I'm here, perhaps you can be of some assistance."

"You want to meet the fishermen, I'm guessing."

"Are they in the village right now? Can I go see them?"

Before Leena could answer, the front door of the hut burst open and the chief stumbled in. The village elder was disheveled and covered in dust. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead and the cane he usually carried was missing. He stopped in front of the two bewildered young people and opened his mouth as if to speak. Instead his eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled to the floor with a resounding thump. Glenn immediately darted toward the old man and knelt beside him.

"Leena, grab his arms and help me lift him onto the cot!" he commanded.

Pale and shaking, she meekly acknowledged the order and grabbed the Elder's hands. Shouts and cries were heard coming from the outside as the chief was propped up on the bed. He gasped softly as his lungs struggled to take in air. Leena stood hunched over the old man, desperately trying to revive him while Glenn dashed to the nearest window to assess the situation. Throngs of people were running in the direction of the dockside from beyond the portico and wails of distress reverberated throughout the village.

"He's responding!" Leena cried.

The dragoon officer tore his eyes away from the chaos and returned to the bedside. The Elder was awake, but he appeared very weak. He raised his right arm and feebly grasped Glenn's tunic. He released his hold and motioned for the younger man to draw nearer. Leena looked on with concern as the cacophony outside continued to build. The echoes of small explosions were heard accompanied by screams. With great difficulty, she forced herself to ignore the clamor and turned her attention back to the village elder.

"Sir, what is happening?" Glenn asked.

The chief looked up at the officer and groaned. "Soldiers…" he gasped, "Soldiers at the docks have arrested…" The old man grimaced and he clutched his side. Leena gave a cry when she saw a growing patch of red materialize on the Elder's robe. The blood was beginning to seep through fabric, staining his left hand a deep crimson. 

"He's wounded," Glenn observed. "Undo the tunic. He'll die if we don't hurry."

Leena reached for the damp material, but the Elder weakly pushed her hand away. He shook his head in despair. "There's no hope for me," he croaked, "The wound is too deep. But there are more important matters to deal with. Porre is here! They've landed…" The chief winced in pain, but fought the sensation and continued, "…they've landed at Guldove and a smaller detachment of soldiers seized our docks a few minutes ago."

"They've come for the fishermen," Leena gasped and the Elder nodded in agreement.

"The troops are about execute the poor lads on a trumped up espionage charge. They've probably done away with them already," he sobbed in despair.

Leena remembered the two short blasts she had heard earlier and cringed.

The old man suddenly gasped and went limp, his head lolled to the side. Glenn slowly released the Elder's hand and stood up. He strode to the chief's desk and snatched the dagger Leena had placed there earlier and handed her the weapon. She looked at him in bewilderment and shook her head.

"Take hold of this. You might need it," he instructed.

She wordlessly received the knife and slipped it into her dress pocket. She watched as the Lieutenant gathered his belongings and as he was about to leave, Leena sprinted ahead of him and slammed the door shut. He paused and looked at her questioningly. She positioned herself in front of the door so as to block his passage and returned his gaze. He let out disheartened a sigh.

"No. It's far too dangerous for you to get involved."

"And if I stay in Arni, what's to happen then, Mr. Dragoon?" she retorted. "It's not any safer here, to be perfectly frank. They've murdered the two fishermen who saw the ships and they'll probably want to seize the village and murder everyone else here as well!"

"There are such things as rules of war, you know. If the Porre Army takes over, Arni will be considered occupied territory. So long as the villagers behave, and I'm sure they will, the residents will have nothing to fear. You're safer here than with me."

Leena crossed her arms and frowned. "I wouldn't count on it," she interjected, "I told you about the boy that those men kidnapped the other night, didn't I? What would they do if they found out there was a material witness to their little escapade? If what happened to Kiripa and Olango is any indication of how these Porre thugs treat people who know too much, I might as well jump into the sea now and be done with it."

Glenn threw his arms up in exasperation and dropped his cloak on the floor. "And let's say, just for the sake of it, you came along. Then what? The likelihood of war has just increased ten fold with Porre troops about to billet in Arni. How can you possibly keep up with me?"

"I'll manage! Point being, if I stay here I'm putting myself and my family in danger." Leena walked back to the chair by the cot and slumped into it. "Besides, I think that fellow that got bagged by those soldiers may have something to do with this," she sniffed.

"Why do you say that?"

"Call it intuition."

"That's not a good enough reason."

"How about I tell you the whole thing on the way to wherever it is you're going?"

He halted briefly to deliberate and after awhile he grudgingly agreed to allow Leena to accompany him. "Just make sure you don't get yourself killed. I can't look after you at every waking moment," he growled.

"I can look after myself, thank you," Leena remarked. She started for the door and pulled it open. "So where are we going? You do know that there are probably troops parading down our streets right now, don't you?"

"Yes, I know," Glenn snapped. "You live here. What is the best way to get out without being detected?"

Leena stepped out onto the Commons and turned back to face her new travel companion. She motioned at the clump of palms at the far end of the gathering space. "Through there where we sat earlier this morning. Once we pass those trees we'll be on the main path outside the village."

"Then let's go."

"Where to?"

"Termina," he replied tersely as he picked up his cloak.

****

* * * *

Crumm sat on the makeshift military dock and watched as rows of demi-human prisoners shuffled alongside a column of blue coated Porre soldiers. The troops had captured the village a half hour earlier and the residents were none too pleased to be wearing chains while their homes burned around them. Resistance had not been completely stamped out and even as reinforcements began to disembark on the blackened shoreline diehard Guldovians had taken to the surrounding mountains. He huffed in displeasure at the thought of having to root out a well entrenched enemy. The resistors were ragtag militia armed with old smoothbore muskets and, heaven help them, swords and pikes, but they were dangerous all the same. He had a mere quarter of his division on hand and he knew that a prolonged guerilla war with the wretched inhabitants would only serve to undermine the expedition.

The Chief Aide-de-Camp approached Crumm and clicked his heels smartly. The man was drenched in sweat and his weathered face had smears of dry blood streaked across his cheeks. His officer's gorget displayed a dimple on the polished surface, undoubtedly caused by a spent musket ball. The man had been very lucky, for a few additional inches in either direction would have meant death.

"Status report, Colonel," Crumm grunted as he eyed the officer lazily.

"One hundred and sixteen of the enemy killed, seventy-nine wounded, and six hundred and fifty-five prisoners taken, Lieutenant General, sir," the colonel replied hastily.

"Our losses?"

"Nineteen killed, twenty-eight wounded, sir."

Crumm yawned and waved his hand dismissively. "That's fine, Colonel. Have the men search the residences for any armed troublemakers." He paused to adjust his cap. "Shoot to kill, you have my orders." 

He reclined in his chair gazed out at the sea. Numerous gunboats were patrolling the waters, zipping between the larger ironclads and spasmodically firing signal shots to the troops on land. The large _Ignatius Class _transports were unloading the two artillery batteries that accompanied the expeditionary force. Crumm could see the gun crews struggling to pull the large iron pieces ashore while the ship's sailors unloaded the shell crates. The sun was setting on the horizon and from a distance he heard the melodious clang of the dinner bell. He pulled out his pocket watch and stood up. Dinner was one of the few occasions where he had the opportunity to grill his regimental and brigade officers on modern tactics. If a man failed to answer his questions correctly there was a good chance that he would be relieved of his command. This expedition, however, would call for a more lenient approach. Crumm could ill afford to sacrifice his officers and he knew it. He snapped his watch shut and started for the shore, where a small boat was waiting to carry him back to his command ship. He sighed contemptuously. The night's gathering would have to be pleasant one.

The crystal flutes clinked around the table as the group of smiling officers raised a toast to the success they had encountered on the beaches of Guldove. A demi-human waitress clapped in chains cleared the champagne bottles and dishes while the men exchanged compliments and spoke of their prowess on the battlefield. Lieutenant General Crumm sat silently at the end of the dinner table swirling the bubbly yellow liquid in his glass. The evening had passed with little consequence and the week's operations had been accomplished without any major flaws. He reached up and undid his collar and cravat. Dinner was always a stuffy affair for Crumm. Though he enjoyed hassling and demoting ineffective officers, he despised having to squeeze himself into his dress uniform with its high collar, sashes, and tin neckties. He faced the brigade and regimental officers seated at his table and cleared his throat. The conversations dropped off and his dinner companions shifted their attention to the commander.

"A good job, yes," Crumm began slowly, "and you are all to be congratulated for the courage displayed by your men out there." He tipped the contents of his glass into his gullet and placed the flute back on the table. "But we have only just begun and there is still a lot to do. You are all here on High Command's orders. Your men have no clue why they're stationed in El Nido and you, gentlemen, are in the dark as well." He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. He stuffed the cloth back into his breast pocket and motioned for the waitress to refill his glass. "Tell me, do you like stories?"

The officers around the table looked at each and slowly nodded.

Crumm coughed and cleared his throat noisily. "As you all know, last year the Republic briefly occupied the El Nido archipelago in search of a supposed ancient artifact of great power. That went straight to hell. We found nothing and wasted valuable resources. Moreover, our demi-human expedition sponsor and leader went missing. High Command couldn't care less, but all the same, we squandered our time.

"Now it saddens me to report that we're back to chase another myth. The Chancellor and High Command have decided to place the fate of the war's outcome in the hands of university archaeologists and a journal," he scoffed. "Have any of you men heard of Major General Norris of the _Black Wind Division?_"

A young adjutant meekly raised his hand. "He was the leader of the expedition sent here the previous year, sir," the lad piped. "The Major General was dismissed from the service for failure to comply with orders and for insubordination."

"Correct. Following his departure the _Seventh Bureau's _intelligence operatives lost track of him. Many of you are already familiar with the fact that the _Seventh _has its head up its ass most of the time and so learning that they couldn't find the man didn't surprise me at all."

A peal of laughter momentarily filled the room. The waitress set a box of cigars on the mess table and Crumm motioned for his officers to join him as he lit one. Tendrils of blue smoke swirled around his head as he took a puff and sipped his champagne.

"The ex-Major General left behind a number of personal effects," he continued, "and among those items was a journal. The _Seventh _went through it and apparently the entries were of sufficient interest for the thing to be bumped up to the _Ninth Bureau_. And from there military intelligence passed it on to the Chancellor and the General Staff."

"What did the contents detail, sir?" the Chief Aide-de-Camp asked. "To warrant the attention of the Chancellor and the GS, that is."

"A record of ex-Major General Norris' experiences in El Nido," Crumm explained in a calm and even tone. "It seems that he met a few interesting characters here while on duty and ran off with them in pursuit of the exact same artifact the Republic was searching for. He apparently found it in the Sea of Eden. But he also recorded that the thing was destroyed shortly thereafter. Nevertheless, the little paragraph that detailed the recovery efforts was enough to keep the eyes of the brass at High Command glued to the book."

"Are we in search of the same artifact this time around, sir?" a Brigadier questioned.

Crumm shook his head. "No." He paused to take another gulp of his drink. "The book spoke of ruins from the future and of machines so fantastic that it would make a scientist's head spin. But what the Army High Command is primarily interested in is the discovery of advanced weapons technologies. You all know that the war back home is far from finished. No matter how many times we beat down the insurgents they just keep coming. The General Staff hopes to find a way to pacify these rebels by displaying fancy new ways to kill them.

"Norris was kind enough to name names in his journal. He had gone into astonishing detail about the lives of his travel mates, insofar as to what he knew, in any case. But we were able to pinpoint a few individuals, in particular the kid that started the whole thing. Problem was, he supposedly existed in a different dimension," Crumm said. "Fortunately, the authorities back home were able to draw on the skills of our illustrious prisoner, the good doctor. With her coerced cooperation we were able to replicate the dimensional gate effect and, as far as I know, we successfully pulled the kid into this side of things."

The clock struck eleven and the Lieutenant General stood up. The other officers followed suit and he dismissed them for the evening. After the men had filed out of the mess quarters, he unfurled on the table a large topographical map of El Nido's main island. The piece of paper had been marked with circles, numbers and arrows to symbolize the _10th Division's _movements. Crumm had planned the attack a week prior to his forces setting sail. His spies in the port city of Termina had recently confirmed that the Lord of El Nido had indeed planned to fight an invasion. He looked at the map and snorted. His enemy was barely a brigade in strength and most of those soldiers were mounted dragoons armed with swords and lances.

"One volley from a platoon of Porre infantry and a bayonet charge will be enough to send the General's second-rate militia fleeing for their lives," he mumbled scornfully. The commander blinked, rubbed his eyes and yawned. He blew out the candelabra and trudged back to his quarters. 

Outside, the village of the demi-humans continued to smolder in the moonlight and hundreds of campfires blazed along the shoreline. While the rest of El Nido fell into a fitful sleep, the intermittent popping of musket and rifle fire pierced the night air around Guldove. The full scale horrors of invasion had set foot on the archipelago and Anguish and Suffering trailed in its wake.

****

* * * *

The market swarmed with merchants and their customers as Glenn and Leena snaked their way through a valley of stalls and produce stands. News of Arni's capture and subsequent occupation had spread like wildfire. Mounted dragoon guards and newer infantry formations were patrolling the city and all around tensions ran high. Through the din, Glenn turned back and told Leena to hold onto his hand in case they became separated. She duly complied and soon the two travelers finally reached the flight of stairs that led to the cemetery and began their descent.

The surroundings were serene, but the marketplace ruckus above the stone steps filtered down to the burial grounds. Off to the side a lone straw hut perched upon wooden pylons graced the landscape. Leena scanned the area and only saw a small dispersal of townsfolk flittering about the numerous headstones. Glenn pointed to a small outcrop carved in the shape of a scallop shell and motioned for her to follow him.

He knelt at the grave and said a silent prayer as Leena stood reticent, watching the other mourners. A tall peddler in a shawl with a wheelbarrow full of bluish-purple blossoms approached the two and stood a scant few feet away. Leena strained to see his face, but the man's head was bowed and encased in a tattered hood. He peddler remained motionless as Glenn continued his orison. When he had finished, the stranger shuffled toward him and offered him one of the flowers. He took the bloom and carefully placed it on the grave. He reached into his pocket for a coin, but the peddler raised his hand in protest.

"There's no need for that," the man said in a raspy voice. "Consider it a gift for the fine lad." He slowly raised his head and wisps of lavender hair protruded from the hood of the old shawl.

Glenn stepped back in shock and blurted, "Karsh?"

"In the flesh," the peddler replied.

"What are you doing here?" he asked incredulously.

"Helping you out on your mission, what do you think? And not so loud. If you can't tell, I'm in disguise." Karsh jerked his thumb at Leena. "Who's the skirt?"

Leena glared at him peevishly.

"My travel guide. She's from Arni." He turned to face her. "Leena, this is Karsh, one of the Four Devas of the Acacian Dragoons."

"Hey, sorry to hear about your village," Karsh said. "But don't worry, we'll kick the bastards back to Porre, you can count on that." He rummaged through the wheelbarrow, pushing the stalks of flowers to the side to reveal a broadsword hidden underneath the thin layer of blossoms. "For you, Lieutenant."

Glenn looked around and discreetly picked up the weapon. He hid it in his cloak and inconspicuously fastened the scabbard to his belt. "Where's the other one?" he asked.

Karsh shook his head and drew his shawl closer. "You'll have to make do with just one of the Einlanzers. Carrying the both of them from the manor would've been risky as hell," he whispered. "Besides, where you're off to you might find a sword to be a wee bit less useful. And unless you have an innate ability to deflect bullets, a firearm might be a better companion."

Glenn gave him a stunned look. "Where am I off to exactly?"

Leena cleared her throat and subtly pointed to two young men strolling alongside the dock. Karsh turned his back to the both of them and pretended to be on the lookout for prospective customers while Leena wrapped an arm around Glenn's waist and rested her head on his shoulder. He placed his cheek on her hair and gave her a sympathetic embrace. When the two passersby had left the three returned to their previous postures.

"General Viper's orders are for you to hitch a ride to the mainland," Karsh explained. "Once you're there you have to find a way to get in touch with an ex-Porre officer. He's some sort of weapons expert and military engineer. With war being a damn certainty now, we'll need all the help we can get. The General's also hoping that he can tell us why the Republic is back."

"And after I meet this officer?"

"You get your ass back here in one piece and preferably with this guy following you. Be quick about it though. The General doesn't want to fight but if we're forced to, and I hate to admit this, Porre has us outgunned and outnumbered. We can hold out, but for how long nobody knows. And if, the Dragon Gods forbid, we're overrun, you won't have a home to return to."

Glenn pursed his lips and nodded in affirmation. "Understood," he answered.

"And one more thing," Karsh began. "There is a group of merchants from Truce doing business here in Termina. You might want to see if you can arrange a ride with them. Go as an El Nido shopkeeper and make up a story about wanting to flee from the coming war." He glanced at Leena and smirked. "Same goes for your wife."

Glenn turned beet red and Leena glowered at Karsh. He shrugged and grinned at them.

"Good luck, Karsh," Glenn said, "to you and everyone back at the manor. Take care."

The Deva clapped him on the shoulder. "Be very careful of who you speak to. There are Porre agents crawling about everywhere. Don't trust anyone you meet on the mainland," he cautioned, "not even the officer guy. Tell him what he needs to know and nothing more."

"What's his name?" Glenn enquired.

"Norris," Karsh responded, "Major General Norris."


	5. The Battle

__

Chapter IV

"The Battle"

The muzzles of the cannons spurt forth jets of flame and produced a thick wall of smoke as the first battery opened fire. The deafening report shook Crumm to the core as he surveyed the siege from behind the field guns. The second battery followed up with a thunderous cannonade of its own and he had to fight to control his charger when the beast reared on its hind legs. He patted the mare on the neck to soothe her and the animal regained its composure. His spyglass swept across the horizon and he spat upon the ground in disdain. The rapid offensive envisioned by the General Staff had bogged down with an unacceptably high casualty rate. And he was in the thick of things, a readily available scapegoat for the higher ups back home to sacrifice to the political leadership if everything ended in failure.

The _10th Division _and its supporting units had launched a full thrust northward from Arni after the fishing village surrendered without opposition. With Guldove and Arni as forward command posts whence his forces could easily be re-supplied and augmented, Crumm had little reason to believe that subsequent attacks would be anything less than a string of brilliant and swift victories.

"That damned backwater militia!" he snarled fiercely. "That damned pack of worthless, antiquated toy soldiers!" He hurled his telescope toward the enemy with all his might and the small cylindrical object sailed through the air. 

He had vastly misjudged the staying qualities of El Nido forces, their numbers and the weapons they fought with. Instead of encountering poorly led sword wielding troopers, Porre soldiers met stiff resistance in the form of an enemy commanded by fairly competent leaders and equipped with relatively modern implements of war. While the _10th Division _had weapons that possessed greater range and accuracy, the Acacians had more hardware and the added advantage of the rugged terrain. The thought of a grueling campaign in rough territory greatly disturbed him, and enraged him further especially after the almost bloodless affair at Guldove.

An adjutant ran up and handed Crumm another spyglass. He extended it and scanned the darkening landscape. For an instant he could see in the fading daylight the black outline of cannon barrels trained on his forces from the Acacian redoubts. Then came the brilliant orange flashes, followed by the report of eighteen guns, and the view of the enemy position was obscured by smoke. The rounds fired by the El Nido batteries screamed overhead and plunged into the earth around him and his troops. His horse panicked and again he battled to control the beast. The columns of dirt caused by the sheer force of the impacting cannonballs rained down on Crumm and covered him in filth. The adjutant that had stood beside him received a ball through the stomach and his bowels were spread out on the ground in a grotesque collage of blood and tissue. He calmly wiped bits the man's remains from his boots and trousers and galloped off to his field headquarters.

****

* * * *

An Acacian infantryman slowly raised his head above the wooden palisade. No sooner had the crown of his helm emerged from the top of the makeshift redoubt than a shot rang out. The soldier jerked back as the expanding bullet fired by the Porre invaders struck him in the eye and left an exit wound in the back of his head the size of a saucer. His lifeless body crumpled to the ground alongside his musket as his comrades looked on in horror.

The orange and red hues of the setting sun had given way to creeping shadows of late evening, but there still enough light out for the Porre sharpshooters to pick off stray soldiers. The thunderous artillery duel between the invaders and the defending El Nido forces had slowly melted away as the gun crews on both sides gradually lost sight of their respective targets. The Acacian redoubts had withstood the shelling by the Porre guns and the garrisons had even managed to bloody the noses of the attackers on several occasions. The enemy had sent two waves of infantry assaults and both had been driven back with devastating loses to the aggressors. The El Nido guns were smoothbore, but at close range even the light artillery had succeeded in cutting bloody swathes through the ranks of the advancing Porre infantry.

General Viper slammed his fists on the desk and the three Devas gave a brief start. Dario, Karsh, and Zoah eyed each other apprehensively. The Lord of El Nido ran his fingers through his beard and heaved a sigh. He again looked at the maps on the table and instinctively jabbed an index finger on Fossil Valley.

"We'll make our next stand here," he declared as a matter of factly. "The valley is well protected and Porre's forces will have to negotiate their way through the pass." He looked at his Field Marshals. "What are your thoughts on this? Dario? Karsh? Zoah?"

"We can slow them down significantly, General. Fortifying the valley will force the Porre commander to attempt to shell his way across, much like he attempted to do so today on the field," Dario said.

Zoah grunted in agreement. "My brigade can reconstruct the redoubts that Karsh's men have produced and pack them with artillery. With higher ground we'll have a better field of view and a better trajectory for our solid shot," the Deva continued.

"And my troops and I will continue to hold our ground for as long as we can," Karsh finished.

General Viper nodded at Karsh. "Once Zoah's brigade is finished with the construction, you'll execute an orderly withdrawal to the rear for refitting. From there you'll cover our left flank just in case the enemy attempts to envelop us." He turned to Dario. "And your brigade will cover our right. Marcy's reserves will remain in the center to provide support if necessary."

"With luck we'll be able to wear the invaders down and perhaps even destroy them before reinforcements arrive," Dario chimed in.

"With luck," Viper replied sullenly, "with luck."


	6. Tragedy & Unwanted Company

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Chapter V

"Tragedy & Unwanted Company"

Glenn stood at the stern of the merchantman _T.M.S Tantros _and stared out at the sparkling green waters, his arms casually draped over the wooden guardrails. The light breeze ruffled his hair and gently shifted the white ribbon that trailed down his back as he observed the rolling waves break upon the wooden hull of the vessel. The constant rocking of the ship had forced him to seek refuge on the topmost deck while Leena remained in the cargo space-turned-guest quarters idling her time away. He was not accustomed to the sea and the first week of the voyage had been one torturous parade of nausea after another. His companion, by contrast, had fared relatively well, chatting with the merchants and the crew while he remained holed up in their small windowless compartment wallowing in misery.

He took in deep breath of fresh air and smiled. It was through Leena's suggestion that he had extricated himself from the hold to pay visits to the upper deck whenever he felt a spell of queasiness about to overcome him. Glenn silently congratulated himself on having successfully found his sea legs and began to hum a military march. He reached the third bar when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He stopped and whirled around to catch Leena behind him grasping a tin cup.

"Thought you might want something to drink," she said politely as she extended the mug to him. "One of the merchants told me it helps to soothe the sickness."

Glenn took the offering and grinned at the girl sheepishly. "Thank you." He paused briefly to stare at the murky liquid and to collect his thoughts. "But I'm getting on quite well, actually," he hurriedly remarked, not wanting to dwell on his inertness the previous week. He looked at her and flashed a nervous smile, prompting her to giggle softly and wave her hand dismissively.

"Alright, Mr. Dragoon," she said, "I'll leave that up to you. Just remember that we still have quite a ways to go." Leena winked at him and walked away.

After she had descended to the deck below, Glenn immersed his index finger into the liquid and swirled it around. He scanned his surroundings and having satisfied himself that no one else was about, he quickly brought the cup to his lips and drained the concoction. He wiped the excess from the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand and wandered off, the empty mug carefully concealed within the confines of his cloak.

Leena gingerly took her wet tresses in both hands and lightly wrung it over the side of the ship. She ran her fingers through the still damp hair and gave it another twist to release the remaining droplets of moisture. The reflection of the full moon shimmered on the surface of the ocean and the only sounds that could be heard were the creaking of the ship's timbers and the haunting whispers of the waves. She rested her elbows on the rail and leaned forward, eyes fixed on the darkened waters below.

It was then that a fleeting thought of him entered her head. She was enthralled by him, captivated by the aura of inscrutability that surrounded his being, and utterly beguiled by his gallantry. He was an enigma to her, an individual that she barely knew, but fate and circumstance had thrown them together and, much against her will, she was falling for him. It was pure madness as far as she was concerned. She had left her family and her village behind in the midst of the most precarious of times and the talk of war had been rife even before she stepped onboard the _Tantros_. Yet a part of her was happy, almost relieved to have found asylum in the company of the outsider that had unwittingly mesmerized her.

"Enough of that!" she scolded herself. "He lied to you and threw a shoe at your head, for goodness sake! Is that the kind of man you want to be with, you silly girl?"

She spent a moment in idle reflection and sighed wistfully. "Yes. No. Perhaps."

Glenn tossed and turned violently in his bunk as he struggled to fall asleep. The hold was unbearably stuffy and the humidity of the evening added to his discomfort. He finally sat up in bed, panting, beads of sweat on his skin, and his hair disheveled by his reckless twisting. He propped himself against the hull and rubbed his eyes. The door was slightly ajar and a thin ray of light from the narrow hallway fell upon the empty bunk across from him. He looked at the crumpled sheets quizzically and got out of bed. He pulled on his tunic and was about to reach for the door when he suddenly stopped. Glenn stood in silence for a brief moment and slowly walked back to bed. He lay down with his hands behind his head and quietly observed the ceiling.

He was fond Leena and the affection he felt transcended the sort of care he had shown to Riddel. Everything seemed new to him, as he had only an inkling of what love and infatuation were like, and even then, his knowledge in the two fields were nearly negligent. He knew with a good amount of certainty, however, that there was something there and that Leena had, unbeknownst to her, released in him a flood of emotions that were pleasing and yet discomforting at the same time. 

He threw off his tunic and rolled onto his side facing the wooden wall when he perceived light footsteps approaching the hold. The door slowly creaked open and his cabin mate shuffled in with a minimal amount of disturbance. He heard the soft rustle of her skirt as she climbed into bed, followed by a dull thud and a barely whispered cuss. He bit down hard on his tongue to prevent himself from bursting into a fit of laughter and after the urge had passed, Glenn smiled serenely and closed his eyes.

****

* * * *

The afternoon sun beat down with unrelenting force, its searing heat uninterrupted even by the slightest breeze. The great canvas sails hung like dead cloth, the wheel abandoned, and the rigging rattled with eerie irrelevance. The _Tantros _was adrift. The majority of the crewmen had retreated to the deck below and only a select few remained on top to keep watch. The light wind of the early morning had subsided, leaving the sturdy merchantman at the mercy of the ocean, bobbing without direction in the vast expanse. 

Glenn scanned the horizon from the crosstrees high on top of the main mast. Marveled by the rapidity of the sailors as they scaled up the great rounded lengths of wood by way of the ratlines, he had eagerly wished to share in the experience. He cajoled the captain of the vessel into allowing him to partake in the dangerous venture and on a few occasions almost met with tragedy by nearly tumbling to his demise. Once he had safely ascended the dizzying heights, flushed and exhilarated, he found himself astounded by the view his vantage point afforded him. There was nothing but water for as far as the eye could see. The _Tantros _was like an amateur dancer performing an unsteady jig on a limitless carpet of blue.

One of the crew called out and waved to him merrily from the mizzen mast. Glenn returned the gesture and shouted out a greeting to the sailor. The man grinned broadly and vanished from view as he made his back onto the solid footing of the top deck. The relentless heat of the sun was beginning to overwhelm Glenn and he was on verge of grappling onto the ratlines for a swift descent when a sharp cry caught his attention. His eyes settled on a lone seaman seated on the crosstrees of the foremast.

"Hostile ship off the port bow!" he bellowed, hands cupped around his mouth to amplify the shout. He caught sight of Glenn and frantically pointed to a growing speck in the distance. Crewmen were scrambling madly about on the deck below and other cries of urgency reverberated around him.

The ship was fast approaching with unnatural momentum. The afternoon calm that had set the _Tantros _adrift did not impede the movement of the encroaching vessel in any manner. Glenn shielded his eyes from the glare and squinted at the intruder with an unshakable feeling of dread. White canvas sails fluttered curiously about despite the lack of wind and the horizon was devoid of smoke, the tell tale sign of a steam engine. However, as the unknown ship advanced, he could make out a series of long wooden protrusions emerging from both sides of the hull, rising and falling with an even, almost orchestrated, tempo.

"Oars!" Glenn exclaimed, his eyes widening with alarm. He seized the ratlines and hurriedly descended from the post, his heart beating hard at his throat.

His feet met the wooden deck with a thud and he seized the closest body he could reach, one of the traveling merchants from Truce. The man struggled to free himself, his eyes darting to and fro between Glenn and the flight of stairs that led to the deck below. Sweat covered his wide brow and his skin had an unpleasant, sticky feel to it. He looked at his captor forlornly and whimpered.

"What's going on?" Glenn asked.

The man continued his attempt to wrest himself from Glenn's vice-like grip and cried in pain when the hold tightened. He ceased his writhing and began to ramble in a strange, guttural tongue.

"He doesn't speak our language," someone behind them remarked candidly. The captain of the _Tantros_, a balding, rotund little man, sauntered toward the two with the sort of grace that should have been alien to a person of his physical disposition. A cutlass bounced against the material of his trousers as he strode briskly on the deck. "The dialect of the Mystics is understood by few and spoken only by those who hold allegiance to the Old Religion. The fellow in your grip is a convert. You'd do well to leave him to his own designs."

Glenn released the merchant, who at once scrambled for the stairwell, and turned to face the captain of the vessel. The stout figure was ashen faced and rigid; his pupils, scant pinpricks of black upon cobalt. His torso was encased in a thick leather vest and a small wooden shield was slung across his back. The scattering of crewmen on deck were similarly attired and the sailors that had just recently sought sanctuary from the sweltering heat were now lined against the ship's rails armed with swords and muskets.

"The followers of the Old Religion have preached peace since their disastrous defeat in the wars of the previous centuries," the captain explained, "but to harm one of their own is tantamount to an attack on all their brethren. For this reason alone, Porre has had a devil of time subjugating the Archbishopric of Medina."

Glenn gradually nodded in acquiescence.

The captain slowly drew the cutlass from his scabbard and slashed it through the air. "Arm yourself, trader, if you wish to reach your destination alive. The _Tantros _is the only merchant vessel to dare the Porre blockade. Yonder intruder is therefore either a warship of the Republic or band of pirates seeking a bounty. Either way, prepare to engage in combat."

****

* * * *

The deep rumble of hundreds of clawed feet upon sodden ground shook the earth as the column of mounted dragoons broke into a trot. Karsh raised his battleaxe, swung it around twice in a circle, bellowed a war cry and dug his spurs deep into his mount's side. He pointed his weapon and his dragon directly at the thin blue line ahead of him and screamed the only thing men in his situation should,

"Charge!"

The shrill cry of the bugle resonated throughout the ranks as the mass of soldiers emerged from the slow trot and hastened their pace into a full gallop. Within moments the column was advancing at a frightening speed toward the enemy, lances at the ready, pennants fluttering madly in the heat of the charge, and the deep throated roar of the men adding to the near intoxicating properties of the cavalry assault. The dragoons thundered across the field, their leader at the head swinging his axe feverishly.

Karsh could see the long firing lines of Porre infantry ahead standing steadfast and impassive in the midst of imminent disaster. The blue-coated troops had their rifles shouldered and were drawn up in parade formation. He could not help but admire the professionalism of the invading army and the courage that they displayed in battle. He had thought little of Porre soldiers in the past, brushing them off as a conscript fighting force whose victories were heavily influenced by their technological advantage rather than their skill in the art of war. But as he approached the dogged wall of bodies, he had to force himself to suppress the urge to salute the foe.

Suddenly, the blue line began to waver as infantrymen started to fall back. Karsh grinned maliciously and gritted his teeth in disdain. Perhaps he had given them credit that they ill deserved. It was too late for the enemy to do anything but die as the momentum of the charge continued to build. Upon seeing the Porre stragglers, the Acacian troops gave a mighty cry, their confidence and morale bolstered.

The line of foot soldiers disintegrated under the pressure, only to reveal the battery of eight guns they had concealed from the charging cavalry. The artillery pieces were primed to fire and its gun crews stood by the wooden carriages, ready to reload the iron barrels with deadly canister shot that killed with devastating efficiency at close range.

"Damn it all to hell," Karsh muttered as his column drew perilously close to the black muzzles, unable to stop because of the sheer force of the charge.

The guns belched forth a wall of flame and the leading elements of the Acacian attack vanished into the stinking fogbank of smoke.

****

* * * *

Glenn brought the Einlanzer down with all his might and the blade cleaved through the brigand's cutlass and into his shoulder. The man shrieked in pain as the dragon sword glanced off bone and buried itself deeper into his flesh. Glenn wretched his weapon loose from the wound and delivered a swift uppercut to the man's jaw, breaking it with a crack that was audible even amidst the din of battle.

Leena was behind him, her back pressed against his, the long strands of her hair tickling the nape of his neck. She clutched her ivory dagger in her left hand and a double barreled pistol in her right. A buccaneer burst, lumbering, through a screen of men ahead of her, roaring through a beard, his sword held high and murder in his eyes. She bit her lower lip and quickly raised the pistol to shoulder level. With her hand at a slight tilt, Leena squeezed one of the triggers. There was a small click followed by a loud report, a jet of flame from the muzzle, and a puff of blue smoke. When the haze cleared, her would-be assailant lay sprawled on the deck with a musket ball lodged in his chest.

"How are you holding up?" Glenn yelled as a bold stroke of the Einlanzer sent a head bouncing.

"Not bad at all, thanks," Leena replied hastily as she unloaded her firearm into another attacker and discarded the empty pistol. "I could use a better weapon though. With this dagger they'll do me in before I can get close enough!"

A pirate scurried up to Glenn and drew his blade back for a cut. As the sharp edge of the weapon descended, Glenn beat the sword aside with a convulsive slash and drew the Einlanzer in an upward motion, amputating the attacker's hand at the wrist and launching the severed appendage into the air. He seized the bloody relic, dispensed a diagonal cut to the limb's former owner's face, and handed the gory prize to Leena.

"See if you can use this," he said without pause.

Leena grabbed hold of the hand without looking and when she caught sight of the dripping member, she gave a cry and dropped it. Fighting back the bile in her throat, she knelt down and hurriedly pried the dead fingers from the sword handle. As she rose, she spared a moment's glance that saved her life when she spotted a brigand armed with a harpoon sprinting toward her in a mad charge. She gripped the white blade of her dagger between her thumb and index finger and hurled it. The sharp end of the projectile missed its mark, but the pommel struck the man between the eyes and temporarily stunned him. As he reeled back in pain and confusion, Leena lurched forward and drove the point of her sword home. A disturbing gurgle momentarily escaped from his dying lips; the buccaneer dropped the harpoon and crumpled into a heap.

Before she could ready herself for another clash, the loud blast of a horn suddenly pierced the air. She looked around and saw that they were hemmed in on all sides. The surviving crew members of the _Tantros _were being disarmed and the white and blue cross ensign of the Truce Merchant Marine was being lowered in favor of a plain black flag.

"The _Tantros _has struck her colors," Glenn whispered from the corner of his mouth.

"What does that mean?"

"Our ship has surrendered."

An imposing, muscular man clothed in black stepped into the ring of pirates that encircled Glenn and Leena. The blue eyes that rested below a set of bushy eyebrows examined the two lone fighters with caution and curiosity. A fat cigar was lodged between his lips and a red scarf adorned the mustachioed stranger's thick neck. He scanned the small pile of corpses in front of Glenn and shook his head in consternation.

"You have cost me dearly today, boy," he said despondently.

Leena eyed him warily, the sword still in her hand and her knuckles white from the strength of her grip. Glenn had by this time turned around and stood facing the man in black alongside his companion. The Einlanzer, covered in a film of blood, rested uneasily at his side.

"But we be pirates!" the man exclaimed merrily and turned to the crew, who promptly gave a raucous cheer. He drew his attention back to Glenn and Leena. "I am Fargo, captain and commander of the _S.S. Invincible _and your ship with its cargo is mine."

"And what about us?" Leena blurted out. "What about the crew?"

"The crew will have the option of joining us," Fargo said, "but you two on the other hand, I will feed to the sharks on the account that you've cost me so many of my own men."

The circle of buccaneers burst into a fit of laughter and Leena cringed.

Fargo grinned wryly. "But it would be a waste to let such tenacious fighters die." He paused and blew a smoke ring. "I'll tell you what I can do for you. As a favor, I'll let you two climb into a small rowboat and we'll set you adrift. How does that sound?"

"Leave us to perish on the open sea? That's your favor?" Glenn croaked.

"Well, you'll survive if you pray hard enough, my boy," Fargo said with a wink, drawing another round of laughter from the pirates. "Besides, we're not far off from Choras. A bit of persistent rowing will lead you directly to the bluffs. What you do from thereon out is up to you. Are we agreed?"

Leena looked at Glenn anxiously and not knowing what to do he gave her a worried smile. He turned back to Fargo and nodded reluctantly.


	7. Into the Eagle’s Nest

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Chapter VI

"Into the Eagle's Nest"

A trickle of water cascaded down his brow and traced a wet trail onto the bare flesh of his shoulder. A cold draft caressed him like so many icy fingers and he shivered. He felt a warm hand brush against his face and the coarse material of a blanket pulled up against his body. He moaned softly and gently moved his head, wisps of blue hair tumbling onto pallid skin that had just begun to regain color. He slowly opened his eyes and focused on the face before him. He tried to speak, but the young woman at his bedside placed an index finger against his lips.

"There's no need to talk, Serge. You need your energy," she said in a hushed tone.

He looked at her vacantly. Her blue eyes sparkled like sapphire chips in her soft featured face, framed by long lilac tresses pulled back into a ponytail. A pair of rectangular glasses perched on the bridge of her nose and her dainty mouth was curled up into a tired smile. A red armband imprinted with an eagle was wrapped around her left arm and two small brass bars were pinned to the collar of her blouse.

"How do you know my name?" Serge asked slowly, his thoughts still hazy. "And where am I?"

The young woman held up a small chart. "Your name? It says so right here." She chuckled softly and replaced the clipboard. "You're a guest in Lokar Fortress, a holding pen in the Republic of Porre. But enough of that for now. Get some sleep."

"A prison, you mean?" Serge said, arching an eyebrow and ignoring her suggestion to rest. "And I'm a prisoner?"

"If you prefer to call it that, then yes, we're in a prison and we're prisoners."

"We?"

She nodded somberly. "I'm a long term tenant here myself. They've even given me a uniform. If anything, these Porre thugs are sticklers for consistency." She self-consciously ran her palms across the white fabric of her shirt to smooth out nonexistent wrinkles.

"Why am I here?" Serge inquired as he pulled himself into a sitting position.

"Because you're a small, but important strand in an intricate web being weaved by the Powers-That-Be of the Republic. It has been ascertained that without you, certain projects cannot proceed. Tell me, are you familiar with the term, 'The Arbiter of Time?'"

Serge silently shook his head.

"According to a diary that once belonged to a high ranking army officer, a series of events of monumental importance happened a year ago. The strange thing is, no one remembers that anything even occurred and there has been no supporting evidence," she explained. "This officer was known to have been a very credible fellow, not prone to wild stories and speculation."

"And I was a part of these supposed events?"

"Presumably, yes. A name was mentioned in the book along with at least three dozen others. One individual, the Arbiter of Time, was the key the whole matter. You, apparently, are the Arbiter." She paused to rearrange her armband. "Knowing this, Porre intelligence set about searching for you. There was a slight problem, however. In this world, this dimension, our dimension, you are already dead."

A shiver went up his spine as he heard the revelation. It was as though he had experienced something quite similar, but his mind drew a blank. Serge shifted uneasily, prompting the young woman to hold his hand in sympathy.

"You're still very much alive now, I assure you," she said compassionately, "but your double in this world passed away eleven years ago."

He relaxed somewhat and grinned weakly. "It's a bit of shock, I guess."

"Rightly so," she replied.

"How did they get to me then?"

Serge's fellow prisoner turned away from him and looked out the small barred window at the far end of the room. She sighed forlornly and stared down at her clasped hands. "Many years ago, an unexpected side effect from one of my early experiments opened up a new method of—transportation. At first it was wildly unpredictable, but in a short amount of time I was able to exercise full control over its capabilities.

"As the years passed, the only traces of my sudden discovery survived in the stacks of notes I kept in my study and workshop back home. I had given little thought to it since I had other, more worthwhile and pleasant, matters to pursue." She sighed again. "But as fate would have it, I was spirited away and brought here by an agent of Porre, my research papers bundled along for the journey.

"I arrived here as a hostage of the Republic. The war was raging as furiously then as it is now and I was unable to escape. They kept me under arrest for two years when I refused to cooperate with their military scientists. But after numerous threats to my safety to those of whom I loved—love…" 

She faltered as a tear rolled down her cheek.

Serge reached out to comfort her, but she stayed his hand.

"It's alright," she said. "It's been far too long. I must learn to let things go and be happy with the memories." She gave him a heartrending smile as she fought back her tears. "I was coerced into working for them and for nine long years I've remained here as a researcher. I modified the schematics of my past experiment to work along their standards, using a specific catalyst to create the intended effect. They used the modified product to bring you here, to our world."

"What's going to happen to me?" Serge asked with urgency in his voice.

"Nothing for the time being, but it's hard to say at this moment." She rose from the mattress with her clipboard in hand, dried her eyes, and headed for the door. She paused briefly and turned around. "I'll see you tomorrow, Serge. Be brave."

"Wait!" he called out suddenly. "I'm sorry, but I didn't catch your name. I'd like to—thank you for speaking so openly with me, Ms…"

"Ashtear," the young woman replied pleasantly, "Doctor Lucca Ashtear."

****

* * * *

Doctor Whally climbed out of the carriage to face the Department of Special Projects. A massive structure, it was designed to impose and intimidate. It did. A grand row of fluted columns supported a series of marble arches that formed a half circle around the centerpiece, a mausoleum-like building that housed the main offices. The doctor smirked when he remembered a joke that an old colleague had told him regarding how Special Projects could bury its staff in the building it occupied in the event anyone died. 'That way,' the wit had said, 'you'd never have to worry about anyone leaving work early.'

"A good portion of the scientists inside don't even leave the premises, let alone go home early," Whally muttered to himself. He had never found the joke to be funny, partly because he was employed there as a researcher and didn't fancy dying at work and because the man who had shared the yarn with him was an idiot of the first degree.

He ascended the white stone steps and marched toward the entrance, valise in one hand and his identification papers in the other. The stone faced guard that met him in front of the wooden double doors examined his pass, grunted, and ushered him through layers of security without question, as if everyone knew where he wanted to go.

They all knew him on sight. The most brilliant scientist of his generation or of any for that matter, his journals and articles on the advantages of steam power in war had propelled him into the spotlight, grabbing the attention of the Army High Command and that of the politicos in the Republic's civilian leadership. He was the man who first urged the development and construction of iron clad warships, giving Porre unmatched supremacy at sea. Numerous awards and accolades lined the bookshelves in his office.

His austere guide sent him up a staircase through the kind of security gauntlet one only passed through to the most sensitive of areas within the building. Armed guards patrolled the narrow corridors, rifles loaded and bayonets attached. He stopped in front of a large oak door and rapped three times. There was a slight pause followed by a minute click. The door swung halfway open with a creak and a man cautiously peered out from behind.

"You're behind schedule, Doctor Whally," the fellow snapped.

"I was merely wanting to be fashionably late, Doctor Grant. Did I succeed?"

"Shut up, Whally. Witty banter doesn't suit your character," Grant replied caustically. He opened the door wider and grumbled. "Now do you want to come in or would you like to waste some more of my time?"

Doctor Whally stepped into the cramped office and took a seat. Grant shut the door and slumped into the chair behind his desk. He rummaged through his top drawer and pulled out a leather bound tome with a golden embossed Porre eagle on the cover. He tossed the book roughly onto his desk in front of his colleague and crossed his arms.

"And it's all there, I trust?" Whally said.

"Damn it, man, I'm not stupid!" Grant snarled viciously, "That thing has been sitting in here for the longest time and there is no reason to believe anything should be missing."

Doctor Whally shrugged his angular shoulders and picked up the volume. He opened his valise and dropped it in, closing the brass teeth of the bag with a snap. He gave Grant a forced grin and stood up.

"Reconsider, Doctor." Grant interjected gravely, "Reconsider what you're about to do."

"There's nothing left to reconsider."

"Science is impartial to the machinations of war, you fool! Giving direct aid to those militaristic hardheads is a violation of everything good and sacred in our profession!"

Doctor Whally sighed. "I was hoping that the Green Eyed Monster would spare you, Doctor Grant. But it seems that I was wrong."

"For crying out loud! Open your eyes! This has nothing to do with envy! If being the head of Special Projects means helping them spread death and destruction, then you can by all means have the damned position! It's a question of ethics!"

Whally pursed his lips and walked to the door. He reached for the knob and paused. "Thank you, Doctor Grant. I'm sure the book will be of great use to the efforts of the Republic."

Grant slowly sank into his chair and watched silently as his colleague left the office.


	8. It Keeps Getting Better and Better

__

Chapter VII

"It Keeps Getting Better and Better"

"You're not rowing fast enough!" Leena barked as she struggled to pull her oar through the water.

"And you're rowing the wrong way!" Glenn retorted angrily.

Leena threw up her arms in exasperation and turned her eyes toward the heavens. The blistering heat of the sun had given way to an ominous gathering of grey clouds and the wind had picked up. The calm that had settled upon the ocean earlier that day was rapidly being superseded by frothing waves that banked alongside the small wooden vessel, rocking the boat to and fro in a manner that was most unpleasant for its passengers.

"How long have we been at this?" Leena asked irritably.

"Too long," Glenn mumbled, "and there's no sign of land yet. How far did that pirate captain say Choras was?"

A flash of lightning streaked across the darkening horizon and the low rumble of thunder was building up in the distance. Leena groaned and abruptly covered her mouth to hide a barely concealed scream. A few feet away, slicing through the churning waters, a spotted dorsal fin cut ahead of the boat's bow and speedily sank beneath the waves. Glenn released his oar and looked at his companion questioningly. Her hand still cupped over her mouth, she rapidly pointed to the front of the vessel. He looked at the bubbling cauldron of salt water and arched an eyebrow at her. She stared at him in mute silence and after awhile, Glenn shrugged and returned to his rowing.

The fin again broke on the water's surface, taut and shimmering in the dull light. It zigzagged across the bow and submerged into the murky depths. Leena gave another yelp and Glenn shot her an annoyed glare.

"What now?" he asked impatiently. "Instead of sitting there looking pretty, why don't you pick up the oar and—"

He was cut off in mid-sentence as a large triangular snout rose from the water, bursting from the deep below. He quickly seized Leena's arm and pulled her toward him as a set of jaws, brimming with inch long teeth, descended upon the aft of the little boat. The wooden planks of the vessel gave way in the mouth of the Lion Shark with a series of resounding cracks. The ocean quickly poured in as the creature's heavy torso tilted the craft below the water line.

They looked on in terror as the shark systematically consumed their only means of buoyancy, its maw opening and closing with horrific rhythm and efficiency, pieces of wood snapping under the monstrous pressure being asserted. The cloudy grey eyes of the predator rolled inside their sockets, in all likelihood observing the two forthcoming entrees that remained backed up against the far end of the boat.

Glenn gritted his teeth and unsheathed the Einlanzer. "God, this keeps getting better and better," he muttered sarcastically.

Another bolt of lightning marked the evening sky and the deep roar of thunder followed close behind. Droplets of rain gradually commenced and within minutes, the drizzle had transformed into great sheets of moisture beating against the tumultuous waves. Leena gripped Glenn's arm tightly and struggled to maintain her footing as the surface steadily collapsed. She looked at the naked blade in his hand and gasped.

"You're not actually going to—"

"I don't know about you, but I have a thing against being eaten alive."

"As opposed to being dead before you're devoured?" Leena inquired flatly.

"Never mind! It's not like you're coming up with any brilliant ideas! Just stand back."

She quickly nodded and released her hold on Glenn. He cautiously advanced a few steps and deftly swung the sword. The steel edge struck the shark's snout and neatly sliced off the tip. Blood dribbled down its hide and the beast thrashed about in pain. It slowly began to slip away, the water around it taking on a pinkish hue, and soon vanished beneath the waves. 

Glenn turned to his companion and flashed a cocky grin. 

Suddenly, the Lion Shark reemerged and lurched forward into the vessel, no doubt eager for its supper, and redoubled its efforts to reduce the craft to splinters.

Glenn lost his balance and tumbled onto his rear, the Einlanzer falling from his hand and into the interior boat with a noisy clatter. The angle became increasingly severe and he began to slide toward the snapping jaws. He scrambled backwards on his hands and feet, but the incline compelled him to draw closer to the creature until he was but mere inches away from certain doom.

Leena seized the one remaining oar that hung limply over the side and clumsily stalked toward the shark, the salt water lapping at her ankles. She proceeded to beat the hideous fish on its wounded snout with the paddle, each blow producing a sickening wet thud and a light spray of red. She gradually realized that the strikes had no discernible effect on the voraciousness of the shark's assault and threw the makeshift club aside. Reaching into her pocket, she produced her dagger and slid it toward her prone travel companion.

"Gouge its eyes!" Leena hollered, "Remove them from their sockets if you can!"

The dagger skittered along the planks and, by the some miracle, Glenn managed to wrap one of his hands around the handle. The beast pitched forward and clambered closer, blood seeping uncontrollably from the gory mass of tissue that was once its muzzle. Glenn swiftly delivered a kick to the animal's upper row of teeth and jarred a few of the ivory razors loose. Seizing the small blade, he lunged audaciously toward the gaping maw and quickly rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the loss of his right foot. He adroitly plunged the tip of the dagger into the shark's eye and gave the handle a twist. There was an appalling pop followed by an explosion of red as the fragile orb gave way, causing the shark to furiously beat about in agony. Its heavy tail rose from the water and there was a sudden thud followed by a soft splash.

Leena observed in horror as Glenn was swept overboard and into the stormy ocean. The severity of the tempest had increased substantially and great, rolling waves tossed the helpless vessel about while the contest between the indefatigable creature and the boat's stalwart occupants continued. The Lion Shark squirmed violently, its great mass slowly slipping back into the depths. Sensing the beast's motive, Leena dashed to the Einlanzer and seized the heavy blade with both hands. Braving the elements and the distinct possibly of losing her life to the rapacious killer, she thrust the Dragon Sword into its throat, pulled the steel edge loose, and drove the point home again and again, causing great gouts of blood to well out from the wounds. Within moments the massive predator shuddered and laid still, the bulky carcass wallowing in an appalling crimson soup.

No sooner had Leena slipped the Einlanzer into her belt loop to search for Glenn than a massive wall of water rose from behind the sinking vessel and came crashing down upon the brittle wooden craft. The tremendous weight of the swell engulfed her and the remnants of the boat, leaving nothing behind but the dark roiling waves of an angry ocean.

****

* * * *

The staff officer tapped his foot impatiently and watched as a Sergeant Major scurried across the overpass, his halberd in tow and a scroll in his hand. The man skidded to a halt in front of the adjutant and quickly saluted him. The haggard looking NCO was covered in dirt and his uniform was soiled with sweat. The helmet that perched on his head was crooked and his tunic was nearly in tatters.

"Faster next time," the officer growled as he snatched the paper from his subordinate's grasp. "And make it a point to be in presentable dress in the future." He dismissed the Sergeant Major, straightened his cap, and marched through the wrought iron gates that led to the library.

Lieutenant General Crumm slowly ran his fingers across the book spines as he strolled along the carpeted walkway. He exhaled softly as he the scanned the titles that slipped by under his touch. The previous owner of the volumes had been a soldier to the core and the numerous tomes on military strategy and tactics were a testament of his devotion to the martial craft. The cavernous room that served as the library in Viper Manor had taken on a new role as a makeshift War Room for the commander of the Porre Expeditionary Force. Indeed, the palatial residence of the ex-Lord of El Nido had become the field headquarters from whence the army's operations would be directed.

Crumm had seen to it that the manor was left unharmed during the final assault. He had coveted the fortress-like structure for its commanding position and, in a fitting blow to the prestige of its once powerful master, as a grand trophy to mark his own proficiency as a soldier. He had had Viper's tapestries and insignia stripped from the marble walls of the manor as soon as his forces occupied the site. The man that caused him innumerable headaches and losses had, to his extreme aggravation, escaped from right under his nose, no doubt having fled with his top commanders to a safer location.

The gates to the entrance of the library opened with a clang, causing Crumm to frown in displeasure. The Colonel that stepped up to him clicked his heels smartly and gave a little bow. With the precision of an automaton, he snapped his right arm forward, a scroll in his gloved hand.

"Casualty reports, Sir!" he declared.

Crumm effused a sigh. "Read it out, Colonel. I'm in no mood to stare at numbers. How many this time around?" War without casualties was impossible. Casualties, however, meant lists and from these lists sprouted notes of condolences to the parents of the poor wretches that had naively picked up a rifle in search of adventure. The death did not faze him, but the mandatory signature of the commanding officer that needed to be on _every letter_ annoyed him to no end.

"Tenth Division casualties consist of seven hundred and eighty three dead, including thirteen officers, and one thousand six hundred and nine wounded, including fifteen officers."

"And the enemy? What of theirs?"

"We're still tallying them up, Sir. Preliminary figures point to approximately four hundred dead, a thousand over wounded, and upwards of three to four thousand prisoners, including a badly injured senior commander."

Crumm looked at the officer quizzically and raised an eyebrow. "Senior commander?"

The adjutant nodded. "The surgeons don't expect that he'll live through the night, however. He was extremely fortunate to have survived for as long as he did on the battlefield—Sir."

"Inform the doctors to do everything in their power to keep him alive," Crumm said. "The man might be an asset but he's of no use to me dead. Do you understand?"

The Colonel saluted.

"Good. Now leave. And drop that list off in my office along with those damned notes."


	9. Sightseeing Gone Horribly Amiss

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Chapter VIII

"Sightseeing Gone Horribly Amiss"

"My goodness! You're finally awake!" Leena exclaimed incredulously as Glenn began to stir. She slipped her hand under his head and gently lifted him into a sitting position. "You've been out of it for a good six hours, you know. I was beginning to think that you had died and left me here all by myself."

Glenn slowly opened his eyes and at first glance was greeted by his companion, a great big smile of relief plastered across her face. He grinned at her weakly and pulled himself onto his feet, but his knees buckled and sent him sprawling onto the sand. Leena clicked her tongue in disapproval and knelt beside him, her hands wrapped around his bicep.

"Still a bit weak, I see," she remarked candidly. "That was some performance you put on back there in the boat, Mr. Dragoon. Going toe to toe with that shark was quite a feat, let me tell you. Oh, and don't worry about your sword. I have it here with me." She patted the blade that hung at her side.

He nodded wordlessly and smiled at her again.

"I thought we were as good as dead, to be honest," Leena continued. She paused and stared at him. "What's wrong? Lion Shark got your tongue?"

"No, no. Just a bit confused—and disoriented, that's all. I'll be fine," Glenn replied softly. He rose with Leena's help and brushed off the sand that stuck to his tunic and breeches. He lightly ran his fingers through his hair to get at the fine grains that clung to the roots and gingerly swept the stray particles from his shoulders. He took a breath of air and observed his surroundings.

The sun was at its apex in the afternoon sky, but the temperature was mild and a soothing ocean breeze wafted in from the deep blue beyond the shore. Great cliffs of red granite loomed at the top edge of the beach like imposing sentinels that kept watch over the aquamarine waters. Small clumps of trees lay nestled along the base, closely bound to the rough surface, forming a green belt of vibrant plant life that was juxtaposed along side the bleak outcroppings of the cliff. The shoreline stretched for quite a distance until it reached a point where the white ribbon of sand wrapped around and disappeared behind a vast projection of stone.

"Where are we?" Glenn asked.

Leena walked up and stood next to him, her eyes fixed on the shimmering surface of the ocean. "We're on Phobos Island. Choras is about three miles west from here. We can walk, but I think getting transportation shouldn't be too difficult."

He looked at her in bewilderment. "How do you know all of this?"

"I did a bit of exploring on my own while you were out cold," Leena answered triumphantly, "I'm not a silly damsel in distress in constant need of a brave, strong knight, you know." She gave a sly wink and jostled him playfully. "There's a small village not too far from here and the people seem nice enough. But we do have a slight problem."

"What sort of problem?"

"The island's crawling with Porre soldiers," she said gravely. "Apparently there's some sort of archaeological dig going on north of here at a place called the Hero's Grave. There's a makeshift military dock at the West Cape that's keeping the site well stocked with supplies from the mainland. From what the villagers tell me, there are a series of regularly scheduled runs between Phobos and Porre."

"We need to find a way to get on board one of those ships," Glenn declared decisively.

"My thoughts exactly," Leena remarked, "but we'll have to enter Choras first. There's a checkpoint that only certain wagons from the city can pass. And then there's the matter of how we're going to go about doing this." She eyed Glenn's garments and looked down at her own. "It's not like we're heading to a 'come-as-you-are' leisure boat cruise. Any ideas on how we're going to get a disguise? I haven't played dress-up in years so this should be a scream."

Glenn shrugged his broad shoulders. "I haven't a clue. I'm making it all up as I go along." He began to stroll down the shore, but stopped after a few feet and turned to Leena. "Not to worry, however. I'm in full control of the situation," he declared exultantly. "Shall we be on our way?"

"Absolutely. But Choras is in the other direction," she replied with a grin. 

He cleared his throat in embarrassment and frowned. "Right then, I knew that." Glenn waved his hand dismissively. "It's the disorientation—you know, from the boat and the—shark."

"Of course." Leena lowered her head and subdued a giggle as she hurried to her escort's side.

The bazaar was alive with activity as swarms of people littered the cobblestone streets of the Choras commercial district. Hoarse cries from food vendors and merchants filled the air around the cramped stalls and through the narrow alleys while a multitude of carts bee-lined and joggled uneasily along the rough surface of the promenade to reach their respective establishments. The sharp odor of foreign spices seemingly condensed into a pungent cloud that hovered above the teeming masses, lending the bazaar an atmosphere that almost matched the exotic tree-lined venues of the Medina Souk.

Handsome whitewashed buildings of varying height smartly stood along both sides of the agora and brightly dyed canopies of silk hung from windows and balconies. The flat topped townhouses that rose above the bazaar afforded a breath taking spectacle of Choras in its entirety with its ostentatious palaces and temples, its striking parks and plazas, and the unusual white motifs that graced every public and private building. When viewed from a distance the metropolis fantastically reflected the midday sun, giving visitors an awe-inspiring glimpse of the city that was dubbed the "Jewel of the East" of what was once the Duchy of Choras.

Glenn and Leena slowly kept pace behind a fruit wagon as it meandered down the busy esplanade. They were draped from head to toe in light cotton shawls that concealed them from the prying eyes of the city militia and a light blue sash adorned their waists, designating them as apprentice traders. The villagers at Hurino had graciously allowed them to accompany the weekly produce caravan that ran between the farming community and the capital after Leena concocted a wildly sensationalistic cover story. Glenn had initially disapproved of her liberal use of falsities, but later relented when the villager elder offered his generous proposition.

As the wagon trundled past an alley, Glenn lightly grasped Leena's wrist and the both of them slipped into the shaded recesses of the passage. He looked around cautiously and after having ascertained that they were not drawing unwanted attention, he stripped off the shawl and quietly motioned for Leena to do the same. With their bundled costumes discarded, they nonchalantly stepped back onto the busy avenue.

"Well? What now?" Leena asked discreetly as they strolled along the agora. She glanced around inconspicuously, pretended to swat at imaginary flies and diverted her attention back to Glenn. "There are two soldiers walking behind us."

"Keep going straight," he replied calmly, "and walk a bit faster. Do you see that bend that's coming up? Turn when we get there."

Leena nodded and hastened her pace.

As they approached the corner, a chicken farmer next to the crook in the road started a row with one of the spice merchants adjacent to his stall. Feathers and insults soon began to take to the air and fists were eventually introduced to settle the matter. While the two combatants indulged in their brawl, Glenn and Leena flittered off to the side lane, leaving the hectic bazaar behind.

"Wow, that was close," Leena huffed as the both of them drew to the corner.

Two elongated shadows suddenly loomed grotesquely on the stucco walls, accompanied by the blue clothed forms of its owners. The Porre soldiers, a lieutenant and a private, with rifles slung over their shoulders, slowly advanced. They halted in front of Glenn and the lieutenant stepped forward. Deceptively warm hazel eyes scanned the dragoon and immediately froze on the pommel of the Einlanzer, causing the officer to frown in annoyance.

"Civilians are not allowed to carry weapons," the Porre lieutenant declared. "You are in breach of the law. Show me your papers, so as to allow me to report you to the proper authorities." He stuck out a gloved hand in anticipation.

Leena shot her travel mate a worried stare and chewed her lower lip in apprehension.

The officer grumbled impatiently, a cold gravity in his tone. "Papers, please!"

Glenn vacillated and swallowed hard. "Yes…err…papers. Well, you see—"

"Papers! Give me your papers!" the Porre officer cried, his voice rising to a perfect, high pitched scream.

"Right, of course," Glenn replied hesitantly as he reached into his tunic. "I have mine and my—wife's here in my pocket." 

He momentarily rummaged around under the watchful glare of the officer and pulled out a clenched fist. "Here are our papers," he said jovially as he delivered a quick blow to the lieutenant's nose. There was a sharp crack followed by a spurt of blood as the fellow staggered back in shock and pain. Glenn quickly kicked the other soldier in the groin, sending him down on all fours and seized Leena by the hand. "Time to go!"

They dashed back into the crowded marketplace and ran straight into the dueling chicken farmer and spice merchant. The two antagonists were sent sprawling as Glenn and Leena roughly pushed their way through the fighters and the crowd that had drawn close to watch the proceedings. The shrill, sporadic cries of a whistle pierced the air from the alleyway, no doubt from the incapacitated lieutenant, and other whistles soon echoed from various parts of the bazaar.

"Don't get separated!" Glenn yelled to Leena as they ran down the promenade. "If you do, I'll have a devil of a time looking for you!"

Two soldiers suddenly appeared up front and one of them raised his rifle. His companion, however, reached out and pushed the barrel up as the fellow squeezed the trigger, discharging it harmlessly in the air. The entire bazaar broke into a panic and screams reverberated in the close quarters of the district. The soldier that had deflected the rifle shot muttered something to the man who had used the weapon and the two of them fixed bayonets and charged.

Glenn quickly backtracked through the frightened crowd, Leena in tow, and made his way in the other direction. Off in the distance he could see a gathering of blue figures and shouldered rifles, the barrels waving around in the air. He spun around and saw two more soldiers rapidly approaching, one of them madly blowing on a whistle. He turned back to the front and watched in horror as the group of Porre troops pointed, shouted and started running in his direction. Spying an open door to the side of the street, he grabbed Leena and darted to the opening.

The shocked inhabitants, a mother and her three children, watched in puzzlement as two complete strangers raced up her flight of stairs, and became even more perplexed when a small group of the city's occupying forces ran in pursuit, knocking over tables and chairs that stood in the way.

Glenn burst through the door that led out onto the rooftop with a grunt. He quickly shut the entrance and propped a few small crates in front of the threshold to impede the movement of their trackers. He ran to the edge and peered down at the three story drop that confronted them. From behind the barricaded portico, shouts were heard followed by dull pounding.

"What do we do? What do we do?" Leena asked hurriedly as she wrung her hands and hopped from one foot to the other.

There was a muffled shot from behind the barrier and a musket ball ricocheted off the ground a few inches from her heels, eliciting a startled shriek.

"Jump!" Glenn cried resolutely.

"Are you mad?" she screamed. "What are you on? Crazy pills? In case the notion has escaped you, we can't fly! You've picked a fine time to go nutty on me, Glenn!"

The top part of the wooden door splintered under the incessant assault of the soldiers and arms flailed through the hole, desperately reaching for the obstruction that held the chase in check. Glenn glanced back in dismay and frantically pointed to the opposite rooftop.

"No! Not down! Across! We'll have to jump across to the other building!"

Another crack marked the collapse of the door and the formation of an opening large enough for the besieging troops to crawl through. Bayonets poked through the cavity and a rifle suddenly set off, drawing out a badly concealed curse from its owner and the reprimand of a superior officer.

"Okay! No time to talk!" Leena blurted, "Let's go!" She drew back and sprinted forward, her feet beating on the pavement until she reached the edge where a mighty leap sent her sailing over the gap and onto the other roof. She landed with a thud and rolled on the ground several times. She quickly picked herself up and hastily motioned to Glenn, who followed close behind.

The pursuers at last broke out of the barricade and gathered near the perimeter of the tenement. Several shots rang out and the musical buzz of bullets in mid-flight whirred past Glenn and Leena. One by one the soldiers jumped across the miniature chasm, their rifles waving wildly in the air. The portly officer that led them continued to blow on the whistle relentlessly, each trill bellow gradually descending into a tired wheeze. With a pistol and sword in his plump hands, he took a running start and leapt with all his might. He missed the edge by a foot and plunged, with a strident cry, downward onto a canopy. His generously proportioned figure tore the fragile silk, sending him bottom-first into a heap of garbage.

Leena looked back when she heard the screech and grinned madly when she saw that the stout officer was missing.

"Jump coming up, Leena!" Glenn shouted as they approached the yawning gap ahead.

They hurdled over the breach and continued their frantic dash above the marketplace. Rifles open fired and they dove down to avoid the hail of bullets. Several lead balls struck a wooden post ahead with a hollow thud, sending splinters of wood flying. Once the danger had passed, Glenn speedily helped Leena up and resumed their escape. He reached the boundary of the roof and stopped dead in his tracks. The distance that spanned between the two structures was too wide to accommodate their acrobatics. He shot a quick look at the soldiers and furrowed his brow.

"Oh, f—" Glenn immediately halted mid-word and glanced over at Leena. "—figs," he corrected himself. "We're in trouble now."

"I don't think so! Look!" Leena pointed to several clothes lines suspended several feet below their position.

Glenn stared at the pieces of rope and scowled. "And you call me crazy? We'd have to jump to reach those! This time it's _down _and not _across_, you know!"

"We're stuck either way!" she cried dismally and peeped behind her. "And they're gaining on us!"

"Fine!" he said after spending a brief moment in thought. He stepped onto the ledge and beckoned for Leena to join him. "Hang on tight!"

With Leena's arms around his waist and neck, Glenn took a deep breath and stepped off the ridge. For a few moments, the sensation of the freefall was oddly exhilarating, but the reality of a painful conclusion to the heady exercise quickly snapped him back to his senses and he reached out in desperation for a line. His fingers wrapped around one of the hemp ropes and a searing pain shot through his hand as the rough texture rubbed against raw skin. He grimaced, but the pain in his eyes quickly turned to horror when one of pegs that held the cord to the opposite wall snapped loose and hurtled them, screaming, toward a window.

The surface beneath Glenn's boot gave way and the glass shattered. He released his hold on the lead and rolled forward into the room while Leena tumbled brusquely onto her rear. A man seated in the corner observed in silence and wide-eyed terror as they rose and brushed the bits of glass and wood off their clothing.

"Just wanted to drop in to say 'hello.'" Glenn muttered sheepishly as he took Leena by the hand. "I'm sorry, but which way do I go to—"

The bewildered spectator, mouth agape, pointed to the stairwell in an adjacent room.

"Thank you, kindly."

Glenn threw the door open to the bazaar and wandered out with Leena. He wiped his brow with his sleeve and looked around vigilantly for their pursuers. Before he could turn back with news that they were safe, several bursts from a whistle sounded followed by two loud reports. The stucco beside him erupted into a cloud of dust as a bullet sheared the white covering off the wall.

"No rest for the weary!" Leena exclaimed as they set off down the street in haste, soldiers snapping at their heels.

As they approached an alleyway, a pair of hands quickly shot out from the dark niche and roughly pulled them in. Glenn and Leena felt someone shove them against the wall and a voice hissed at them to remain quiet. The Porre hunting party sped past the passage, oblivious to their quarry's whereabouts, and once a few minutes had lapsed, fingers wrapped around Glenn's wrist and tugged slightly. He turned to face their savior and found himself looking at a girl that was shorter than he was, her lips curled into a satisfied smile. She was clad in a red outfit that caused him to turn a deep shade of crimson and a spiraling twist of red ribbon held a tight ponytail in place. White dashes of war paint streaked across both of her cheeks and a purple beaded necklace coiled around her thin neck.

"Take yer friend by the hand and come with me," she instructed.

They soon found themselves in a windowless and sparsely furnished room whose only source of light came from a small hole in the vaulted ceiling. The blond girl dropped two cushions to the floor and sat down cross-legged on a worn out rug. Glenn and Leena cautiously took a spot on the ground and thanked her for her help.

"Not a problem, mate!" she replied genially. "But you two really know how to look for trouble, eh?"

"We weren't exactly looking for trouble," Glenn said.

"Yes, it just happened to find us," Leena added. "The soldiers wanted to see our papers and, of course, we didn't have any, so Captain Courageous here decided there and then that it would be great fun to break the guy's nose and ruin the other one's chances of ever conceiving."

The blond girl burst out laughing and slapped her knee in mirth. 

"So we ended up being chased," Glenn remarked.

"Why didn't you two have yer papers?"

"It's a pretty long and convoluted story," Glenn answered uneasily.

"Tell me another time, mate," the girl replied as she got up. "You two rest fer now. It's dangerous to be out there at this time. I have to leave for a bit, but I'll be back later on. In the meantime, stay here. I mean it! I pulled you two out of yer scrap and I don't want to be repaid by havin' me hideout discovered!"

Leena nodded as their rescuer disappeared behind a makeshift partition, leaving her and Glenn in the empty room with idle time on their hands and nowhere to go.


	10. Damn Tricky Business

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Chapter IX

"Damn Tricky Business"

The contents of the little pot in front of Glenn bubbled and sizzled as he gingerly stirred it. The alluring scent of the stewed chicken filled every crevice of the tiny room and he began to salivate in anticipation as he swirled the dark brown concoction around in the earthenware vessel. Leena sat across from him, knees tucked against her chest and her eyes focused absentmindedly on the tendrils of flame that licked the sides of the container. She threw a wayward glance at the figure that leaned against the wall at the far end of the room, partially obscured by the shadows cast by the dying light outside, and flashed a weary smile.

"So," Leena began, "how did you come to find yourself in Choras…Kid?"

The young woman with the ponytail nodded and walked over to the small flame situated at the center of the almost cell-like enclosure. She collapsed onto her rear with a gruff sigh and crossed her slender legs, contorting them with the ease and grace of a skilled gymnast or, as Leena was beginning to suspect, one whose dubious labors relied upon a top physical constitution.

"Lookin' for adventure mostly," Kid replied with a shrug. "I'm also in search of someone." She brushed a few stray blond strands from her face and tossed her head. "Just not sure who it is."

"How do you hunt for something when you don't know what you're searching for?" Glenn asked as he laid the wooden spatula on the lid of the pot. He rapidly swept off the smattering of dust that covered his breeches and took a seat beside Leena. His hand accidentally brushed against hers and she turned to him, beaming. Glenn grinned weakly and cleared his throat as he tried to direct his attention back to Kid.

"Don't know, mate," Kid said. "I just wander around and I'm guessin' that when I see this person I'll know what do." She removed the dagger that hung at her waist and sliced off a helping of bread. "How about you two? You never told me why you didn't have yer papers. Why would they ask you for 'em anyway?" She narrowed her eyes mischievously and smirked. "Didn't get caught playin' hanky panky in public did you?"

"Oh, goodness no!" Glenn exclaimed as he felt the blood rush to his cheeks. "It's nothing like that!"

Leena snickered and playfully nudged her companion. "He's too proper to do anything like that. If anything, he'd probably want to wait until—"

"Leena!" Glenn stammered, horror struck at her bold and candid behavior. 

Kid giggled and held up her hands as a gesture for order. "Okay, okay. We'll leave yer private life out of the discussion," she said as she looked at Glenn. "But really now, why the big fuss over missing papers? These Porre blokes will just report you and you'll get fined. Happens all the time."

Glenn shared a momentary glance with Leena and shifted awkwardly. "You see, there's more to it than just not having papers. It's one part of it, but—" He sighed. "It's a long story."

"And I have the time," Kid said, "so spill it."

Glenn slowly recounted the course of events that led to his and Leena's arrival at Choras while Kid listened intently, her eyes widening at every passing detail. She pursed her lips in anger as Leena described the fall of Guldove and Arni and the murder of the two fishermen and the village elder. Fire burned in Kid's eyes as tales of brutality and revulsion unfolded before her and her fists clenched and unclenched in resentment. The particulars of Glenn's mission, however, sparked in her an unquenchable interest.

"I think I can help you two out," Kid said after Glenn had finished his narration. "You want to get onboard one of those supply ships going out of the West Cape, right?"

"Ideally," Leena replied, "it sure beats having to swim to Porre and I don't think there's any other way seeing how the whole island chain is under blockade."

Kid nodded. "You won't get far on a civilian ship. But let's say I get the both of you there. What's yer plan once you set foot on enemy soil?"

Glenn shrugged and chewed his lower lip. "I'm not entirely sure. I'm operating in the dark, so to speak. The General did not provide me with enough intelligence information before my departure. But it's understandable, what, with the Porre crisis and all."

"This is what you'll do," Kid said resolutely, "Once you reach the mainland you'll have to haul yer asses to Truce. There's a major resistance cell there that might be able to give you two a hand with this Norris bloke. Personally, I haven't met any of 'em, but I hear these things through the grapevine. These guys are well entrenched and supposedly a large number of 'em are ex-Guardia Royal Army soldiers being led by ex-Royal Army officers. Can't fill you in on much, but as far as I know they're reliable."

"It won't be easy," Leena remarked.

"I never said it would be. It might even be near impossible to leave this island. It's a damn tricky business, that's all. If you two have to find this Norris you have no other choice. The mainland being occupied territory, you'll literally have to face the entire Porre Army. I don't know about you, mate, but I don't like those odds one bit."

"It's a risk that we'll have to take," Glenn replied. "Besides, they're unaware of my mission and our movements."

"Not yet anyway. I wouldn't count on remaining anonymous for long. Chances are every town you'll be going to will be crawlin' with spies. Nothing escapes the Porre scum and you can quote me on that."

The lid from the pot began to rattle slightly as the contents came to a rapid boil and began to seep out from the corners. Glenn quickly threaded a wooden pole through the wrought iron handle and delicately lifted the scorching object from its place on the open flame. He settled the smoking black vessel onto the floor and carefully pushed the cover off.

"Dinner time," he said with a grin.

"How do you plan on getting us onto the ship, Kid?" Leena inquired as she skewered a morsel of chicken. "You said before that it might be impossible to leave Choras."

"Impossible for some, but not for me," Kid replied with a smile. "I'll think of something. Just leave it to me."

****

* * * *

Dario, Zoah, and Marcy stood in silence while General Viper restlessly strode around the interior of the cavern. All around the soft moans of the wounded settled uneasily upon the handful of survivors from the catastrophic battle of the previous week. Off in the distance, winding through the tunnels hewn from the red granite of Mount Pyre, the screams of men being treated by field surgeons seared an indelible imprint in the minds of those fortunate enough to escape the implements of army doctors.

Viper ceased pacing and slowly turned to his Field Marshals. "Our numbers?"

Dario looked at the General with mournful eyes. The brave leader that had inspired the last stand of the Acacia Dragoons had ostensibly evaporated in the wake of the retreat from Viper Manor that had turned into a rout. The old man's eyes were dull and listless; his imposing frame drooped with fatigue and, without a doubt, sorrow after having lost one of his best commanders.

Marcy and Zoah remained motionless, their gaze resting on Dario, waiting for him to deliver the dreadful news. The Army had disintegrated into an armed rabble during the withdrawal from the Manor and what was left was no longer fit for battle. Men had thrown down their muskets in panic and gunners had abandoned their artillery when the Porre infantry broke into a mass bayonet charge. Thoroughly demoralized, the Acacian troops fled in terror. Only a desperate and ultimately self-sacrificing charge by two reduced squadrons of mounted dragoons kept the attackers occupied long enough for the General and his Staff to escape.

"Our numbers, Dario?" Viper repeated, "What of our numbers?"

Dario shook his head forlornly. "There is no army, Milord," was all he could say.

"And Karsh? What about Karsh?"

"Missing in action, Milord," Dario replied despondently. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and fought back the tears. "And presumed dead."

General Viper waved his hand and silently dismissed his officers. Once they had gone, he sank to knees, buried his face in his hands and wept.

****

* * * *

The Sergeant eyed the soldier and his prisoner warily. He pulled out the passenger manifest and scanned the list of names briefly, the pencil in his hand running across the creamy parchment and leaving soft grey marks. He frowned and stuffed the wad of paper back into his tunic.

"I don't see your name here," the Sergeant said, "and there's no record of any 'living' cargo being authorized by the Governor." He glanced at the fiery young captive and snorted.

"I have my orders from General Ulrich from the mainland," the private replied. "I must bring this dangerous resistance fighter back to the Republic for a trial. I cannot take responsibility for failure to do so, Sir."

"Ulrich? I haven't heard of a General Ulrich before." The officer looked at the pair circumspectly and clicked his tongue.

"A member of the General Staff, Sir!"

The Sergeant pulled out the manifest again and made a few marks on the last page. He grunted and waved the private and his detainee through. Within minutes, the gangplank leading up to the cargo steamer was withdrawn, the whistle on the _R.P.M.S. Herbivilion _blew twice, and plumes of white smoke billowed from the stacks as the vessel set out from West Cape.


	11. Searching for Home

__

Chapter X

"Searching for Home"

The demi-human workman groaned wearily as he heaved a large block of granite aside. It paused briefly to catch its breath, its lungs screaming for air from the endless hours of manual labor. The guard that watched over the work detail, however, upon seeing one of the slaves at rest, delivered a sharp blow to the demi-human's back with the wooden stock of his rifle. The humanoid creature howled in pain and quickly whirled about, fangs bared in a sinister, vengeful rictus, and a low growl rumbling from the rear of its throat. It lunged at its assailant in an ill-advised fit of rage, the razor sharp claws aimed at the guard's exposed jugular.

The Porre soldier quickly raised his weapon squeezed the trigger on his firearm. A jet of smoke and flame effused from the iron barrel of the rifle and the musket ball struck the demi-human in the chest with a wet, muffled thud, causing a thin mist of blood to spray from the wound. 

The being was thrown aside in mid-air by the force of the impact and crumpled to the floor, dying. The lids of its eyes slowly began to close and its tongue protruded limply and grotesquely from the side of its mouth. The short, wheezing gasps, characterized by a punctured lung gradually started to subside and soon the wretched laborer lay silent and still.

Doctor Whally and a small cordon of troops rushed to the chamber upon hearing the shot and promptly stopped alongside the demi-human corpse. He unholstered the revolver that hung at his side and turned to the guard who had shot the worker, glowering in displeasure.

"Just what the devil do you think you're doing?" he roared. "We have a limited supply of laborers, you idiot!" Whally raised butt of his pistol and dispensed a vicious blow to the soldier's face. The man reeled back and stumbled to the ground with a crash, bleeding profusely from a gash on his cheek.

The Doctor shoved the gun back into his belt, scowled and stormed out of the ruined cathedral toward his tent.

The portly officer that leaned over the table slowly folded his arms and rocked back and forth on booted heels. Narrow, shifty eyes jumped across the pages of the journal that lay open before him. Fat, bloated lips curled into a monstrous grin, misshapen and stained teeth exposed like a row of crooked gravestones upon the red, inflamed soil that were his gums. A shrill cackle rose from the depths of his belly and his hideous mass, ill-contained by the already generous cut of fabric that made up his uniform, quivered repulsively.

"Oh, wonderful," Doctor Whally exclaimed nastily as he pushed his way into the canvas pavilion that served as his quarters, "you're here. What do you want, Jugle? I'm in no mood for idle chit-chat, if you must know. I have a bloody puzzle to solve and I dare say I'm sure you probably have something to devour."

The smile on Major Jugle's face evaporated and he puckered his brow in anger. He raised a chubby hand to protest, but ceased when he remembered that Whally was in charge of the expedition and he was only an army liaison sent by High Command to serve the bespectacled bookworm with the acid tongue. Jugle adjusted the cravat that encircled his thick neck and regained his composure.

"Doctor, a letter has just arrived from Porre requesting your immediate presence on the El Nido Archipelago," Jugle reported. "You'll have to leave the dig site at once."

"Well it's about damned time," Whally mumbled. He pulled off his gloves and tossed them onto the table. "I take it you'll be accompanying me?"

"Yes, Doctor." Jugle turned back to the journal, partly because it interested him to some degree and partly because he was still beside himself with anger at the audacity of the little man that currently shared his space. He ran a thick finger across the creamy parchment and exhaled softly, caressing the pages of the tome with a sensuality usually reserved for one of the many late night "companions" that he frequently indulged in.

"You'll be seeing many interesting things, Major," Whally said in a tone that, though softened, nevertheless failed to hide the contempt he had for the army officer. "Count yourself lucky that you'll be there to witness a discovery that will alter the way we live, think, fight and work forever."

"The City of Time," Jugle breathed as his fingers danced along the tips and edges of the paper. "Able to alter the course of history, undo the wrongs of the past and change the future."

Whally looked at the Major briefly and scoffed, "You're not a complete idiot afterall."

"If there is anything I understand completely it is power," Jugle retorted as he scanned the neatly inked contents of the leather encased volume. "In this day and age loyalties are bought and sold like common goods in a market. With a currency as—intoxicating—as power, it is difficult to determine where a person's true devotions lie. Wouldn't you agree, Doctor?"

Whally strode toward the table and slammed the journal shut with a bang. He snatched the book off the wooden surface and hastily stuffed it into his coat pocket.

"I think you had better leave, Major," Whally said evenly, "before you compromise yourself more than you already have."

Jugle shrugged and quietly stepped out of the tent and into the blazing afternoon sun.

****

* * * *

The flame from the candle flickered spasmodically as Doctor Whally stooped over the desk, his eyes carefully perusing the characters scrawled across the pages of the book. He mouthed the words softly and deliberately as the pen in his right hand began to scratch on clean parchment, neat curlicues of ink gracefully winding along the velvety surface. The brass rimmed _pince nez _that perched precariously upon his equine nose magnified the pair of grey irises behind the glass and gave Whally an almost comical countenance, a stark contrast to the cynical, acidic individual he was in reality.

The night wind outside began to howl and the canvas flaps of the tent beat furiously upon the sides of the pavilion. The small tongue of orange and yellow began to shift about uneasily on its waxen pedestal and the stack of papers that sat on the rough work surface leapt from the table, scattering across the interior of the quarters and provoking a cry of anger from Whally.

He shuffled about the tent, grabbing stray sheets of parchment and cursing to himself with each and every piece he seized. Once he had retrieved the remnants of his work he turned around, quill in hand and eager to return to his station, but fell short of advancing further than a step. Whally let out an audible gasp of shock and the pages in his grip tumbled to the dirt floor with a soft rustle followed by the black feather pen.

The tall hooded figure that stood mutely behind the desk was motionless and only the voluminous fabric of its mantle swayed in the slight breeze that entered the sparse living space. Its hands were drawn together and hidden within the folds of the black cloak that enveloped the being while a heavy cowl enshrouded the head of the enigmatic visitor. A soft hiss like that of escaping steam from an engine drifted out from the shadowy hole where a face should have been.

"W…who are you?" Whally stammered. "What do you want?"

A deafening silence ensued, punctuated only by the constant howling of the wind.

"Tell me damn you!"

The figure levitated a few inches off the ground and hovered impassively in the air like a life-sized marionette. Slowly and without a sound it advanced toward Whally, its arms still clasped together tightly within the long sleeves of the wrap. Writhing pools of darkness formed beneath the stranger's feet and began spreading out across the ground in great, murky globules that seemed to shimmer in the dim illumination.

Whally gave another quick gasp and tried to move, but he was unable to shift from his spot. In his paralyzed state he observed in dread as the sinister visitor drifted closer while the black, almost shadow-like substance that emerged from the ground in vast gouts started to take on the form of large, wispy cats that swayed side-to-side in a haunting and unearthly rhythm. Twelve pairs of ochre eyes watched him in silence as he remained rooted to the spot, waiting in sheer terror as the wraith before him edged nearer.

The specter stopped a foot away from Whally and gradually descended from its position in midair. A hand retracted from the folds of the black cloth and moved to caress Whally's face. Long, wan fingers with pointed nails yellowed with age brushed against the ashen cheeks of the Porre scientist, eliciting an involuntary shudder of revulsion. The tufts of fur that once covered the hand of the visitor were all but gone, though a few stray clumps remained, and the bare patches of sallow skin that showed through were frail and horrifically pallid in appearance.

"I want to go home," the figure said in a raspy, hollow voice that was tinged with the sharp odor of death and decay.

"I can't help you there," Whally replied weakly. "Having said that, you must go now and leave me alone!"

A hoarse sound like laughter emerged from the confines of the hood followed by another pungent whiff of putrefying flesh. Whally twisted his head away and shut his eyes tightly, not wanting to look at the wraith. He felt fingers wind around his neck and jagged nails bite into his skin.

"I want to go home, Doctor," the figure said, "and you will help me get there."

"No, I cannot!"

"What you seek is what I seek. I want to go home. Take me home."

Whally opened his eyes, looked straight at his captor and screamed in horror at what he saw.

The cowl that covered the head of the wraith was gone. The visage that leered back at him was almost nothing more than a skull of a feline demi-human. Half of the creature's face had rotted away and only a single red eyeball protruded from the left socket. Dried skin stretched across what were once cheeks and bits of desiccated flesh hung limply from the wraith's muzzle. Remnants of ears obtruded from bone, no longer of any use, but there to serve as a grotesque reminder of what the thing had been when it was alive.

"Home. Take me home," the figure rasped, "City of Time. Home."

Whally let out one final bellow before he fainted and collapsed to the ground, alone in an empty tent with only the sound of the night wind blowing outside.


	12. Out of the Frying Pan…

__

Chapter XI

"Out of the Frying Pan…"

The vast countryside seemed to go on forever as the lush carpet of green apparently stretched into infinity. The rolling grass hillocks that formed the greater part of the landscape flattened out into plateaus in some areas and upon these little uplands sat small clusters of trees that formed into miniature forests from which the minute tittering of birds could be heard. Far-off curls of grey smoke rose into the air, a contrast against the blue cloud-filled sky of a pristine August day, while a temperate sun wrapped the land in a blanket of warmth.

"How much farther do we have to walk?" Leena huffed and wheezed as she neared the crest of the hill. She wiped her brow with a handkerchief and stuffed it back into her pocket. "God, this is terrible. I'm so out of shape."

"Just a bit more," Glenn replied while taking Leena by the hand and helping her up. He pointed forward toward what looked like thatched roofs in the distance. "If what Kid told us is correct, that should be the township of Odissa."

Leena rubbed her sore back and grimaced. "You know, you could've been a bit more accommodating on that ship and allowed me to sit down."

"Prisoners are not allowed creature comforts," Glenn said with a wink. "It would have given us away."

"Next time we switch roles."

"I'll think about it."

Leena grinned and punched Glenn on the shoulder; the both of them descended the hill, the afternoon air filled with the sound of their laughter.

The rear of the butcher's shop was utterly revolting, Leena thought to herself. Cow and pig carcasses dangled on large, evil looking hooks that were affixed along the wooden walls of the room and the place smelled badly of spoiled meat. Large pails of animal entrails sat on bloodstained slaughtering tables and it appeared as though whole colonies of flies frequented the unwashed chopping boards that lay piled up against a filthy wash tub. She wrinkled her nose at the stench and turned to Glenn, who was waiting patiently near the door and seemingly unperturbed by the miasma of rancid fat.

"How can you stand there and take this stuff in?" Leena asked in disbelief. "It's like being locked in a room full of hot garbage…hot, meat-based garbage at that."

"I breathe in and out through my mouth."

"Well, that's a bit disgusting."

The heavy reinforced door swung open with a bang and the butcher, a large, chubby fellow brandishing a cleaver and sporting a blood-bespattered leather apron lumbered in. He flung the knife in a tremendous show of strength; the blade hurtled through the air and planted itself in the wall at the opposite end of the room with a loud thwack, causing Leena to jump slightly and shriek in shock. He looked at her curiously and burst into a deep, hearty laugh, hands clasped over his prominent belly.

"Aye, weel then," the butcher said, "What can I do for ye? Pound of pork? Cow's tongue?" He glanced at Leena and chuckled. "Or perhaps a glass of whiskey for the puir wee lassie?"

"No, that won't be necessary," Glenn said as he reached into his tunic and drew out the piece of paper Kid had given him. He presented it to the butcher, who took the scrap of parchment with a large calloused hand. "A letter of introduction from a mutual friend."

The butcher scanned the dark scribbling and furrowed his brow in thought. After awhile he pocketed the note and crossed his arms, eyes fixed on the two visitors. "Do ye ken what you'll be getting yerself intae?"

Glenn and Leena nodded in unison.

"Good. Just thocht I'd check so that if the both of ye get yerselves killed, I won't feel bad," he said gruffly. 

The butcher carried himself over to the wash tub and worked the water pump, cleaning animal blood off his hands, which gave the water a pinkish tinge as it coursed down through the mouth of the faucet and into the drain. He dried himself off and sauntered over to a set of shelves that rested below a sinister row of hooks and felt around the underside of one of the planks. He produced a small ornately engraved silver ring and held it up close to Glenn's face.

"This ring will identify ye as a friend o' the Resistance," the butcher said as he dropped the piece of jewelry into Glenn's open palm. "Ye will find a guid bit o' help amang the folk who sympathize with oor cause against Porre. But if ye be caught with this in your possession, ye will be as guid as deid, ye ken laddie?"

"Yes, I understand."

"Now then, ye must go north and intae the belly o' the beast," the butcher explained, "where ye will have tae meet with a friend o' mine. I'll give ye the address and his name." He picked up a nail, dipped it into a small puddle of congealing blood and scrawled the information on a piece of meat wrapping paper. "He'll be able tae help ye further with finding this Norris. It will be a long way tae go if ye travel by foot, but ye can cut the journey short if ye can manage to get on a locomotive."

Leena gawked at bloodied parchment and turned pale.

Glenn blew softly over the makeshift ink and tucked it back into his pocket once he was satisfied that it had dried. He rolled the ring between his index finger and thumb, carefully examining the intricate carving of a crest and in particular the words that were engrave onto the silver surface. He gasped and nearly dropped the silver ornament.

"The Royal Order of the Knights of the Square Table!" Glenn said in awe. He looked at the butcher in bewilderment, mouth agape, and eyes huge with excitement. "That means you—"

The butcher nodded quietly. "Once upon a time, laddie, but not anymore. Porre saw tae it when they dissolved the kingdom that nae trace o' Guardia ever existed, including the knights."

"But the Queen and the Prince Consort? What happened—"

There was a sudden loud pounding at the front door of the shop followed by the unmistakable tinkle of broken glass and raucous shouting. The butcher quickly spun around and a look of despair darkened his visage.

"In the name of the Republic open this door at once!" a voice cried.

"Soldiers!" the butcher exclaimed. He turned to Glenn and seized him by the shoulders. "You and the lassie will have tae go now! There's a way oot thrae the back just behind the carcasses!" 

"But what about you?" Leena asked.

"I'll make do." The butcher seized the cleaver that was embedded in the wall and pulled it out with a grunt. "They've come for me, but they'll nivver brang me in alive!"

"We can help you with them," Glenn declared valiantly, his sword hand already wrapped around the hilt of the Einlanzer.

"There's nae point, laddie. In but a moment, more soldiers and poliss will be swarming o'er the shop. Ye cannae search for your man if ye be deid or arrested."

More shouts and pounding on the door.

Glenn grasped the butcher's one free hand and shook it vigorously. "We cannot thank you enough for your assistance."

"G'wan with ye, laddie and Godspeed."

The hinges finally gave way and the front door collapsed with a crash just as Glenn and Leena disappeared through the back exit. Three Porre soldiers and two grey-clad militiamen barged in wielding pikes and pistols, the officer among them barking commands to search the premises.

The butcher wasted no time and charged out from the back with a cry, his cleaver raised high above his head. The sharpened edge of the instrument cut through the air horizontally and made contact with a militiaman's torso, splitting his tunic and belly open, and spilling the contents of his abdomen onto the ground. The Porre officer thrust his pike at the butcher, missed, and received a blow to the head that split his skull open. Like an enraged bull, the butcher descended upon another militiaman, burying the cleaver in the man's neck and severing the jugular vein.

Leena could hear the shrill cry of whistles coming from the direction of the butcher shop as she and Glenn fled. She winced at the instantly recognizable sound of discharging firearms shortly thereafter and said a silent prayer for the butcher's soul as they ran past a small community chapel in the direction of the town gates.

"What's this 'locomotive' thing the butcher was talking about?" Leena asked Glenn as they neared the outskirts of Edensa.

"A big, steel apparatus that runs on metal rails strung along the ground."

"Is it a form of transportation?"

"Yes." Glenn stopped and wiped his brow. "It runs on a steam engine, like most of Porre's metal toys. If we can get onto one we'll be able to cut our time short by a few days. It's an awful long walk to the capital."

"And you know this by way of?"

"Intelligence briefings and an overly inquisitive mind," Glenn replied with a grin.

The whistle on top of the bulky black engine delivered three shrill blasts and jets of steam shot out from the undercarriage as crewmen shuffled about in preparation for departure. The crowd that lined the wooden dais of the station slowly surged forward into the long line of passenger cars and hoarse cries of "Edensa, Porre, Truce!" echoed across the platform, bestowing upon the scene an atmosphere of organized chaos.

The compartment was uncomfortably small and the benches that lined the opposite walls of the almost cage-like booth were narrow and hard. The only small measure of comfort offered by the Spartan surroundings was the burgundy wallpaper that served as a cynosure for the eyes, but left the other senses wanting. A single, half opened window allowed fresh air into the interior, providing relief from the sweaty, stagnant odor of the cabin's previous inhabitants while simultaneously providing a breathtaking view of the countryside that lay beyond the pane of glass.

Leena plopped down on the bench and scowled. "You'd think they'd at least put up some cushions of some sort," she said and rubbed the small of her back.

"I suppose Porre's more concerned with functionality than comfort," Glenn said as he took a seat next to her.

There was a jolt followed in quick succession by another, and the train slowly began to shift forward, leaving the station with a bellow of the whistle.

"So what do you make of all this so far?" Leena asked nonchalantly.

"I'm not entirely sure myself," he replied. "It's as though we're allowing Providence to guide us. We're going into this with the assurance of a sleepwalker."

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "You don't sound too confident."

"Suffice to say we've been substantially sidetracked in this…Porre affair. To think that it was supposed to have been so—so—simple and…mundane."

"Question a few fishermen and go home?"

He nodded. "That was the initial plan."

"Things happen for a reason, I guess. You might even say it's—"

"Fate?" Glenn blurted out before realizing that he had even opened his mouth.

"Yes," Leena said with a smile, "fate, destiny, you can take your pick."

"In a way," Glenn began to say as he pulled off a boot, "I'm…glad things turned out as they did."

"Oh? Why do you say that? Not for want of life-threatening situations, chases and adventure, I'm guessing?" she suggested teasingly.

"In part," he said sheepishly, "but what I meant was that—well, if it hadn't been for this whole mess I wouldn't have had the opportunity to—"

Leena raised an eyebrow and smirked, perfectly aware of what her companion was trying to say. "To?"

"To…" Glenn paused and bit his lower lip, his heart racing with nervous excitement. He had, without knowing it, talked himself into a corner and was within a hair's breath of revealing the depths of his emotions. "…to explore the lower parts of El Nido and…meet new people." He smiled weakly and mentally kicked himself for having skirted the issue.

"It's funny because I enjoy meeting new people as well." Leena slowly slid along the bench and moved toward Glenn until their noses were nearly touching. "You know, you're really, really, bad at lying," she whispered gently, a mischievous grin on her face.

Soft lips met his own as Leena pressed forward. Glenn momentarily cast aside his inhibitions to indulge in a gentle, silky, sweet embrace with the village girl he had fallen for since their first acquaintance. Wordlessly he drank her in, savoring the taste of the kiss and allowing the citrus scent of her hair to elevate him above and beyond the cares of the world. His hands met soft strawberry red tresses and he felt Leena's fingers delicately caressing his chest, each stroke like a bolt of lightning coursing through his body.

She pulled back and sighed, eyes still lightly closed; her mouth curled up in a goofy grin. "Fate?" she said at last.

"Fate," Glenn breathed dreamily and smiled. 

The capital lay sprawled out in awe-inspiring glory as the morning sun slowly began its ascent into the heavens. The street lamps that glowed with iridescent oranges and yellows in the darkness gradually vanished in the early morning light as the city's caretakers extinguished the flames that burned within wrought iron and glass lanterns. The magnificent spires of the Saint Tosca Cathedral marked the cityscape in the distance, casting a stately silhouette against the orange sky of dawn while the steam clock located in the middle of Victory Square announced the passing of the hour with a series of tinny chimes.

The _No.12 Edensa-Porre_ pulled into Battle Cross Station at five in the morning when the shadows of night still lingered across the metropolis, but were in slow retreat from the advancing rays of daybreak that washed over the urbanized landscape. The locomotive docked alongside the marble platform of the terminal, wheels screeching to a tired halt and hissing billows of steam surrounding the train like a cloud. Aside from the occasional sleepy soldier on patrol, the station was deserted and devoid of life.

The door of Passenger Car No. 7 slowly creaked open and a mop of blond hair emerged from beyond the aperture followed by an alert pair of cobalt eyes. Glenn furrowed his brow and quietly hopped out of the coach, landing on the white marble surface of the platform with a soft thud. He scanned the surroundings for guards and having spotted no one, he reached for Leena's hand and helped her off the car. Placing his index finger to his lips in a gesture for silence, Glenn pointed to an alcove near the ticket office and motioned toward it. Like a pair of skulking thieves, they quietly made their way to the shadowed recesses, pressing their backs against the cold, hard surface of the wall when shelter was achieved.

A lone army private, whistling an unidentifiable tune, appeared from around the corner of the office, strolling past the alcove and meandering toward Passenger Car No.7, the brass buttons of his gaiters shimmering in the dim lantern lights. He crossed his hands around his back, causing the rifle that was slung over his narrow shoulders to slip off and fall to the ground with a clatter. The soldier swore, picked up the firearm and continued on his patrol, relieved that the weapon had not discharged from the tumble.

Once the guard had disappeared around the corner, Glenn and Leena reemerged and sprinted to the station entrance, from where they vanished into the silent streets of the still-slumbering capital.

The soldier turned around, thinking that he had heard a flurry of footsteps pitter-pattering toward the gates. He paused and strained his ears, but the sound had been swallowed up by the darkness. "Or perhaps it never was there to begin with," he thought. The soldier shrugged and continued his patrol. Soon his shift would be over and he was looking forward to the bed that awaited him back at the barracks.

Leena took a large bite out of the peach with great delight and wiped away the juice that dribbled down her chin as she chewed. Glenn gave the fruit merchant two copper coins and selected a pear from a large crate, buffing the gleaming golden-yellow skin on his tunic. The vendor thanked him and smiled as the both of them wandered off into the distance.

"Erm…Glenn," Leena began nervously, "the thing that happened back at the train…"

"Yes?"

"Well…I'm sorry if I stepped out of line. I was simply—"

"Following your heart?" Glenn smiled softly.

"Yes," she replied, "but if you're not…interested, or sure that—"

He gently took her by the hand squeezed lightly. "I was sure since the first day we met."

"Honestly?"

He laughed gaily. "I swear on my honor."

Leena leaned over and kissed him lightly on the nose, drawing from him a complacent grin. "What now?" she asked.

Glenn pulled out the bloodied meat packing paper from his pocket and carefully opened it. "We'll need to locate 2414 Andower Street and speak with Mr. Farben."

Twenty-four fourteen Andower turned out to be a small shoe repair shop tucked in-between a cheese merchant and a leathersmith. The building was a recently renovated Revival Era townhouse that, despite its age, still possessed the intricate stone etchings that gave architecture of that period its distinct flavor. Underneath a large green awning a small wooden sign proclaiming the name of the store as "Farben & Co. Shoe Mending" rattled to and fro in the light breeze. The interior was shrouded in darkness, though a small placard placed against one of the beveled glass windows announced the store's readiness for clientele.

Glenn depressed the handle and gave the door a slight push, causing it to open with an elongated creak. He cautiously stepped inside and gave his eyes time to adjust to the light conditions within. Leena followed close behind and quietly shut the door. The floorboards groaned under their feet as they tread along a small pathway that led to the interior of the establishment.

"Mr. Farben?" Glenn called out. When he received no reply he instinctively reached for the Einlanzer, his right hand clasped around the hilt.

"What's the matter?" Leena whispered as she saw Glenn reach into his cloak.

"Something's wrong with this picture."

"Maybe he's not here yet?"

"No, he's here. If he wasn't he would not have left the door open and the 'We're Open for Business' sign would not be displayed." Glenn felt a shiver crawl up his spine as he neared the entrance to a room at the opposite end of the shop. A soft light from the other side of the barrier glowed outward from beneath the door, but when he put his ear to the wooden surface he heard not so much as a stir.

"Go on and open the door," Leena suggested, "maybe he's taking a nap."

The brass knob twisted clockwise in Glenn's hand and there was a small click. The hinges swung open and light flooded out from the workshop. The room was filled with tools of all shapes and sizes along with what appeared to be a few dozen pairs of shoes, neatly stacked on a series of brown shelves that lined the walls. A small man stood in the corner of the room, hunched over a bench upon which lay a dull pair of jackboots.

"Mr. Farben?" Glenn said.

The figure stood motionless and reticent.

"Mr. Farben?" Glenn pulled out the butcher's silver ring and walked toward the workbench. "We've been sent to you by a friend in Odissa in hopes that you may be able to aid us."

"Arrest the spies!" a voice suddenly cried out.

Glenn and Leena whirled around and watched as a group of armed soldiers rushed in with their rifles raised. Glenn quickly pocketed the ring and raised his arms in surrender.

An officer dressed in a black uniform, peaked cap, and riding boots stepped into the room and grinned smugly. He strolled over to Farben and gingerly picked at specks of dust on his shoulder. He suddenly gave him a small push and Farben collapsed, the metallic rod that rigidly held him upright falling to the ground with a loud clang.

Leena shrieked in shock as the corpse rolled onto its back, displaying a vicious, jagged cut across its throat. The front of Farben's vest was stained with a large splotch of blood and a vast pool of congealing crimson fluid collected on the workbench.

"He's quite dead, as you can see," the officer said and he nudged the corpse with the toe of his boot. "A traitor in life, but a loyal subject in death." He chuckled. "Without Mr. Farben's help we wouldn't have had the pleasure of meeting each other."

The black clad soldier casually strolled over to Glenn and ran a gloved finger along his face, tracing the contours of the scar that marked his cheek. "Such a handsome young man," the officer sneered and threw the woolen fabric of Glenn's cloak aside to reveal the Einlanzer. He removed the blade from its sheath and examined the Dragon Sword carefully.

Glenn stifled his anger and glared irately at the Porre officer.

"A marvelous apparatus of exceedingly fine craftsmanship," the officer said. "It will be a pleasure indeed to behead you with your own weapon." He handed the sword to one of the soldiers and returned his gaze to Glenn and Leena. "But we'll reserve the fun activities for another day. For now, know that you're under arrest for treason against the Republic and that you are in custody of the _Eighth Bureau Internal Security _Force No. 10." He paused to contemplate. "I'd read you your rights, but rebels and terrorists don't have any. Take them away."

****

* * * *

The site lay in smoldering ruins and the bodies of soldiers and workmen lay strewn upon the blackened earth. Fires raged against the evening sky and plumes of choking black smoke wreathed upward like a giant serpent. On the surface of the encampment dark, ethereal forms darted between burning tents and shattered crates, eerie yellow eyes keenly observing the destruction that had taken place. The cries of the dying and wounded had long been silenced as the Shadow Cats flittered from body to body, devouring the souls that served as their nourishment.

A lone figure stood outside a striped white and blue tent that, despite the devastation that had taken place, was intact. At its feet a portly man in tattered uniform groveled for leniency. The figure raised his arm and the man levitated, hovering in the air like a large and bloated dirigible.

"Mercy, Doctor!" Major Jugle pleaded. "Have mercy!"

"Mercy," Doctor Whally said slowly, drawing out each syllable in a sinister, hissing tone. "Mercy will come from servitude and servitude will come in death." He flipped his wrist and Jugle's body exploded in an eruption of meat, blood, and organs, leaving only a bloody skeleton that dangled in midair like a grotesque string-puppet among broken mounds of flesh.

Two Shadow Cats materialized from the ground next to Jugle's bones and began to twist themselves around the remains, snake-like and with hypnotic rhythm, until the darkness had seemingly melded with bone and a vaguely humanoid shape emerged. Enshrouded in a cloak of shadows and engulfed in a wraithlike sapphire glow, the creature that floated in front of Whally bowed as a slave to a Master.

"Your will, Malevolent One?" it rasped.

The grin on Doctor Whally's face stretched to the point that his lips split and blood began to stream down his chin. His eyes, bloodshot and bulging obscenely from the sockets, began to pulse and glow an ominous red.

"The City of Time," Whally said, "Home. We will go home."

****

* * * *

Violet eyes slowly began to focus, the blurry images that stifled visual acuity gradually giving way to normal sight. His hand reached up to his face, sweeping aside sweaty strands of lavender hair that clung to his cheeks. He attempted to sit up, but at once an intense rush of pain laced through his body, nearly causing him to black out from the sensation. He gasped and prayed silently for death to consume him and put him out of misery.

"He's awake," a distant voice said, "and apparently stable."

"Good," said another. "I'll let General Crumm know. In the meantime, give him some spirits to dull whatever pain he may be in. Check on him periodically and make sure he doesn't lapse into a coma because, damn it, I won't be the one to answer to the General for his demise."

Unable to stay awake and indeed, unwilling to do so, he shut his eyes again and slipped into a deep, fitful slumber.


	13. And into the Fire

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Chapter XII

"…And into the Fire"

Note: This is where Soulblighter-2 left off on writing The World of Chrono Cross: The Porre Affair_ before he passed away. Everything after this point was written by me, Dixxy, or Alba Aulbath._

The rest of this work is dedicated in loving memory of Soulblighter-2.

May you rest in peace, my friend

A definite stench hung in the air of the holding cell that the young knight now found himself in. Vomit, blood, bodily wastes, and perhaps even rotting corpses were amongst the smells that lined the chamber, though he would not have been overly surprised to have found creatures such as rats or cockroaches making their homes in the walls that lined the old castle.

Glenn watched with mild interest as a small mouse crawled across the cold stone floor of the cell. It stopped briefly at the toe of his shoe, standing on its hind legs to sniff. It looked around, nose twitching as it tried to smell something, probably its mate or some small morsel of food. Feeling sorry for the mouse, Glenn picked a crumb from his dinner plate and gently placed it on the floor beside the creature. The mouse scampered over, sniffed it with curiosity, then picked it up and bounded off towards the wall, where it squeezed into the cracks of the bricks and disappeared.

The holding cell was apparently in what had once been Guardia Castle. More specifically, it was in a tower that must have been used as a formal jail before Porre had taken over the northern continent some years ago. Now the castle was being used as a Porre military base to keep a close tab on the slightly volatile area of Truce, where the Republic knew there was a resistance movement.

Glenn sat quietly in his cell, wringing his hands in worry. After their arrest, he had been disarmed and separated from Leena. The sudden loss of his companion worried him- was she all right? She was, after all, just a girl. A girl with a lot of spunk, yes, but still very much a child. Glenn bit his bottom lip, wondering if he should have tried to convince her to stay in Termina where she would have been safer- now her very life was in danger. 

That thought frightened him.

_But it isn't over yet,_ Glenn thought to himself, placing a hand on his forehead. _The execution is still two days away- there is time to try and escape. But how do we do that? The entire tower is crawling with Porre soldiers and they'll most certainly shoot an escaped prisoner on sight. I'm also unarmed, and I'd imagine that Leena is unarmed as well. Still, I have to find a way to get out of here. _

The lieutenant looked outside his cell. Two guards were on duty, casually talking about their wives as they leaned nonchalantly on their rifles. _All right. If I'm going to escape, I'm going to need to get rid of those two before I do anything else. Then I have to find Leena and get her out of here as well. But how?_

Slowly, Glenn got to his feet. The two guards jumped, turning towards the inside of the cell, rifles pointed at the prisoner. The knight stared wide-eyed at the guns, shaking his head as he made stretching motions. The soldiers relaxed and turned back to their conversation. Curious, Glenn took a few quiet steps towards the soldiers. Much to his pleasure, neither man made a motion to move. 

Taking even more precaution than before, Glenn slowly began to make his way towards the Porre soldier. As he edged closer, the distance only seemed to increase and his footsteps seemed to pound loudly against the stone floor of the prison cell. Still, neither soldier moved, now having moved onto a discussion about some party they had recently attended together, probably a social function not much different from the ones that the General threw on important occasions. 

_Closer. . . closer. . ._

After what felt like an eternity, Glenn was standing at the entrance of his cell. Slowly, he lifted his hands, spread them, and reached them through the bars. The Porres began to stir, sensing his presence for the first time. Quickly, Glenn slammed their heads into each other, praying that the blow would knock the two men unconscious. With a resounding thud, the soldiers slid to the ground, dropping their rifles in the process. The lieutenant silently cheered and knelt to the ground, reaching through the bars to try and locate the keys. 

****

* * * *

Leena wasn't sure which was worse- the anxiety she felt over her impending execution, the fear she felt for her traveling companion's safety, or the hungry looks that the guard was giving her. She pretended not to notice him, but she wasn't sure if she was doing a very good job at this from the chuckles the guard was emitting. Leena took a sudden interest in her hair and began to twirl it around her finger.

There was only one thing in her favor, and it had been that they hadn't searched her thoroughly enough when she'd been brought into the base. That was stupid on their part- she still had her dagger. Still, it wouldn't do her much good unless she was in close range, and she was nervous to approach the guard on duty due to his wanting looks. 

"You know, sweet cheeks. . . you've been awfully quiet in there."

Leena sat up with a start, looking around in confusion before she saw it was, indeed, the Porre soldier acting as her guard. He was now fully turned around, looking into her cell with his arms crossed and a smile on his lips. Even though she couldn't see his eyes through the dark visor of his helmet, she could only guess that he was looking her up and down. Leena furrowed her eyebrows and clutched her fists in response to the man's look. "What does it matter to you if I'm quiet or not?" she asked. "In a few days time you all intent to silence me permanently, do you not?"

"Yes, we do- you are, after all, a traitor," he said. One of the corners of his mouth slowly crawled up his face and he briefly let out a chuckle. Leena slowly inched her way away from the offensive soldier, eliciting a full belly-laugh from the man. She winced as the guard continued. "Quite a bit of spunk you got there, too, although I suppose anyone involved with the rebels must have a little bit of guts to stand up to the Republic like you and your male companion did. I must say I'm taken by the concept."

Leena swallowed.

The Porre soldier looked over both of his shoulders, then reached for his belt. "It would be a shame to let such a pretty girl go to waste at the hands of the executioner in a few days, wouldn't it? You're so young and pretty- it would be a shame if no one ever got the chance to enjoy you."

The village girl felt the blood drain from her face. _Oh no. . . not this!_ she thought to herself. Then, she shook her head. _No. . . you have your dagger- you aren't completely helpless and defenseless. _She held back a grin. _Besides, if you can get his keys, then you can get out of here and find Glenn._

The soft tinkling of metal on metal rung through the air as the guard produced a ring of keys. A rather stupid grin was plastered onto his face as he fumbled with them, searching for the one to open the cell. Leena continued to chew on her hair, never taking her eyes off the soldier as her free hand slowly moved towards where the hidden dagger was resting. It was now or never, and Leena knew it.

With a resounding click, the door was open, and the guard stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. "It's just you and me, doll-face," he said in a low, husky voice. Leena's eyes widened. "Tell me- how would you like it? Quick, or slow? It'll be a question you'll be asked again, I promise you that."

"Get-"

Before Leena could get another word out, the guard paused, a shocked look on his face. The soldier's eyes were wide and glazed over, a small, high pitched squeak emitting from the back of his throat. His body jerked slightly as he placed his hands over his chest and fell to his knees. Leena side-stepped as the man slumped over face-first, dead before he hit the floor.

Nervously, Leena turned to see what had killed the man. What she saw surprised her. It was another Porre soldier, holding a long rifle with a now very bloody bayonet on the nozzle. His lips curled into a grin, which puzzled her even more. "What in the world?" she asked. She leaned forward, squinting forward as she tried to analyze the man before her. She couldn't help but smile as she recognized a familiar scar on the newcomer's cheek.

"Are you all right, Leena?" Glenn asked, raising the visor of the helmet to confirm that it was him who had come to her rescue. The Dragoon looked at the body on the floor, and the averted his gaze back to his traveling companion. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No, but he tried to have his way with me," Leena said, shuddering slightly as she hugged herself. She looked back up at him, then knelt down to pick up the keys on the floor to open the cell door again. Once it was open, she gave Glenn a quick peck on the cheek and then got down to business. "While I appreciate you saving me from that beast, might I ask what you're up to?" 

"I knocked out a couple of guards and 'borrowed' their uniforms and weapons," he said. Glenn jerked his head. "I've got another uniform and a weapon for you in the corner- if we're going to be walking around here to find the exit, we'd best go incognito. Hopefully no one will suspect anything."

Leena opened the door to her cell and stepped out, staring at the body nervously. She slowly nodded. Glenn began to hand her the uniform, which she slipped on over her existing clothing. The Lieutenant kept watch, rapping his fingers on the rifle. Seeing the blood from the soldier, he began to absently search for something to clean the blood with- the last thing they needed was to be seen with a bloody weapon- that would arouse suspicion. 

Glenn turned to check on Leena, only to see her trying to stuff her hair into the helmet. With a little time, she had it the way she wanted it and on her head. It was a slightly large fit, but it would have to make due. "Ready?" he asked. Leena nodded, putting the rifle over her shoulder. Glenn nodded. "Let's get out of here before something else happens."

****

* * * * 

"Glenn? Are we lost?"

"Leena. . . I know. Yes, we are lost."

Two hours had passed, and they had yet find any sort of an exit. The whole layout of the tower had proved to be much more complex then Glenn had originally anticipated- he had only found Leena due to the somewhat close proximity of her cell. Now the two were trying to find their way out of the complex to find the mysterious Norris and get back to El Nido in one piece. They also had to blend in with the Porre soldiers as much as they could, mimicking the way they held their guns to try and fool them. And they had to find the Einlanzer as well- Glenn didn't want to leave the Holy Dragon sword behind in Porre, as it was too valuable to risk loosing. 

"It feels like we're running around in circles!" Leena complained, picking up the pace of her walk to keep up with Glenn, who had a much wider and quick stride than she had. "Haven't we been down this cell block before? It seems familiar, unless they're all the same."

"I wouldn't be surprised if they were all the same," Glenn said. He looked over his shoulder and grinned. "It might confuse prisoners trying to escape." Leena didn't look amused, but he shrugged off the dirty look she'd sent him and continued on. "There must be an exit somewhere- how else would the Porres themselves get us in here and out?"

"Why don't I lead for a little while?" asked Leena. She hip-smacked Glenn aside and walked in front of him, swaying her hips as she began to choose a doorway to their left, quickly entering and encouraging her companion to follow. Grumbling something not very nice about the fairer sex, Glenn followed her example and went through the door, hoping that she wasn't leading them to certain doom.

As luck would have it, Leena had found a corridor than led to a staircase. "Impressive, Leena," he commented. In response, Leena turned to Glenn, stuck her tongue out at him, and went down. "Don't even say it Leena, because I already know." He changed the pitch of his voice to a much higher, girlish tone. "'All it takes is a woman's touch'."

Leena couldn't help but giggle. Then, she quieted herself, remembering that her feminine voice might give them away. She quieted herself and continued down the stairs. Glenn was at her heels, keeping an eye out for unwanted guards or commanding officers. The last thing they needed was to be found out.

The stairway led them to what appeared to be some sort of an execution or torture room. Several large axes were leaning against an iron maiden and three guillotines were lined against the back wall. A few other torture devices were also in plain view, some of them, such as an open iron maiden and the majority of the executioner's axes, all of them stained with blood from the necks of many now deceased prisoners. Glenn and Leena cringed at the thought- many of those prisoners had probably been revolutionaries. 

But the most unusual thing in the room was not a torture device at all. It was, in actuality, a strange looking man. The man in question had a light blue skin tone with a head of bright gold hair. A large red bandanna covered his nose, mouth, neck, and part of his chest. One of his arms appeared to be entirely mechanical. Something about the man made them both shudder and realize there was something very, very wrong.

Taking a cautious look over both of his shoulders, Glenn decided no one was looking and took off his helmet to get a closer look at the strange. . . thing. . . in front of them. Leena stayed back, deciding that she wouldn't be as good with it in case something went wrong. And, according to how their trip had progressed so far, they were overdue for something to go wrong.

Seeing as Glenn as occupied with the strange man, Leena decided to investigate the room to see if there was anything of any particular value to them. There were weapons in the room, after all- it WAS a torture chamber. But what kind of an extra weapon would be good? Maybe if she could find an extra dagger for Glenn, or perhaps some sort of a sword.

Suddenly, leaning between two of the axes that were leaning against the iron maiden, was the silver blade of the Einlanzer. Leena's eyes widened in happiness as she rushed over, carefully picking the blade up. She looked it over, trying to convince herself this was the legendary weapon. "Hey! Glenn!" she said, waving the sword over her head. "I found the Einlanzer! Wonder why it's down here?"

"Oh, probably because they wanted to use it to cut my head off. But, uh, Leena?"

"Yes, Glenn?" Leena asked, turning to where she'd left Glenn. He'd sounded rather strange, his voice seeming a little strained and raspy. She dropped the sword in surprise and gasped. The mysterious blue man had come to life and was now holding Glenn captive, the fleshy arm around his neck and the mechanical one behind his back, presumably holding his hands at bay.

"You-are-not-Grobyc's-superiors. Grobyc-will-destroy-you."

****

*****

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The next chapter will be written by Alba Aulbath. Thank you for taking the time to read this.

~Dixxy


End file.
